


Within Your Skin

by BlueSimplicity



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gwaine Being Gwaine, M/M, Magic, POV Arthur, Piercings, Reincarnation, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-11-08 19:46:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11088660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueSimplicity/pseuds/BlueSimplicity
Summary: In the end, Arthur decided, it was all Gwaine’s fault. These things usually were. But when Arthur looked back, trying to find the pivot point, the moment where everything shifted, there was Gwaine in the center of it all. And it all started with a tattoo.**This is the story of Arthur and Merlin, and what happens when Arthur, at Gwaine's recommendation, goes to Merlin for a tattoo.**





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, my HUGE thanks to both Carole and katherynefromphilly for their continued support and encouragement. 
> 
> This fic is mostly complete at this point, and I will try to update as regularly as possible.
> 
> Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own. Also, it hasn't been Brit-picked, so if anyone would be interested in doing that, please let me know in the comments.

**Prologue**

 

In the end, Arthur decided, it was all Gwaine’s fault. These things usually were. But when Arthur looked back, trying to find the pivot point, the moment where everything shifted, there was Gwaine in the center of it all. And it all started with a tattoo.

 

***

 

Arthur was late that Friday night. As he arrived at their local for their standing end of week get together, he could see everyone gathered at their usual table, half-filled pint glasses and empty crisps packets clustered on its surface. Leon was listening quietly as Elyan gestured wildly about something. Elena was laughing at something Lance had said and Morgana was smirking at the two of them from her usual perch at the end of the table. Gwen wasn’t there, but well, that wasn’t unusual these days. Percy was, and next to him was Gwaine.

 

He was surprised to see Gwaine there. Gwaine, usually the center of attention at most of their gatherings, hadn’t been around much for the past two months. Arthur had spoken to him briefly on the phone a few times, even asking if everything was okay, getting only a “Yeah, everything’s fine mate. Just got a lot on my mind.” But Gwaine had been suspiciously absent at their get togethers lately.

 

So Arthur was secretly pleased to see him there. He came over to the table and slapped Gwaine on the shoulder just in time to hear Percy say “So it’s finally done then?”

 

“Yeah,” Gwaine replied, rolling the shoulder Arthur had just slapped. “Final session was last week.”

 

“Well let’s see it then,” Morgana demanded as Arthur put his jacket on the chair next to hers and leaned in to kiss the cheek she expectantly held out in his direction. Gwaine glanced at her, and there was a look in his eyes, there and gone in the next second, before Leon was calling out “Well come on mate, give us a look.”

 

“What’s Gwaine gotten himself into this time?” Arthur asked as he sat, giving Lance a grateful nod as he pushed a full pint glass in front of him.

 

“Gwaine’s gone and gotten himself a tattoo.” Elyan explained.

 

“Really?” Arthur asked, because he hadn’t known.

 

“Yeah,” Percy added. “It’s all he’s been talking about these past few weeks.” Arthur watched as Gwaine smiled at Percy, and once again there was a look in his eyes, quick and fleeting, but different from the way he had looked at Morgana. He was also leaning against Percy’s shoulder ever so slightly, which Arthur knew he had never done before. Gwaine seemed subdued somehow, as if he was holding something back. Which was strange, Arthur thought, as Gwaine was usually the most garrulous out of all of them. Gwaine was bright and forthright and loud, which was what had drawn Arthur to him in the beginning. He was so different from the quiet and stiff formality of Arthur’s upbringing, with its rules and stern lectures and silent demands, and Arthur had found the freedom in Gwaine’s personality calling to something quiet and still in his own. And their friendship had just _worked_. He had known Gwaine longer than anyone except for Morgana and Leon, and he thought better, so he was surprised to find that he was actually a bit hurt that he hadn’t known that Gwaine had been getting a tattoo.

 

“All right then,” Arthur said as he sipped from his glass. “Let’s see it.” Gwaine gave a toss of his hair and a quick shake of his head, and then he smiled, and suddenly he was _Gwaine_ again, the mate Arthur had met his first semester of uni, and who had gotten him into some of the best adventures of Arthur’s life. He was laughing at Elena and Elyan’s catcalls as he stood and slid off his button down, and giving a little shimmy of his hips to Leon’s rolled eyes. And then he was lifting up the sleeve of his tee to reveal…

 

The most glorious tattoo Arthur had ever seen.

 

It covered his right arm from shoulder to wrist in waves of blues and greens and browns, images flowing from one into the other like a river over rocks. From where he was sitting Arthur could see trees, and a horse charging bravely forward. There was a castle in the background, and the silhouette of a figure in green beneath a leafy overhang of vines. There was a lion and a ship and a blazing sun cresting over Gwaine’s shoulder. And in the middle of all of that, centered on Gwaine’s bicep, was the figure of a knight. His face was in profile, obscured slightly by a wave of hair, but he stood tall and proud, with a red cloak flowing around his shoulders and down his back, until it blended seamlessly into the rest of the images. He seemed to be staring off at the castle, and even in profile his fierce look of loyalty and determination could be seen. It was vibrant and bright, and as Arthur stared at it, it almost shivered as if it were a living thing.

 

Arthur had never seen anything like it, and if the silence from the rest of the table was any indication, neither had anyone else.

 

“Holy shite Gwaine!” Elena was the one to finally break the silence. “That’s brilliant!”

 

Whatever had come over everyone seemed to disperse at that, and suddenly there were all  chattering and leaning closer, trying to get a better look at the tattoo, as Gwaine twisted his arm this way and that to give everyone a more thorough view.

 

It wasn’t until later, after Gwaine had answered all of their questions and spun his tale – “ _He comes off as a bit daft at first, yeah, but he’s actually a really nice guy,_ ” and “ _He owns the shop with his best mate from childhood. They’ve got a bunch of artists who work downstairs, and they’re all really good, but they’re the ones who do your typical flash and Hello Kitty crap. He only does freehand work, but if you want something really intricate, really amazing, then you go  to him,_ ” and “ _He’s actually bloody brilliant. He’s considered one of the best artists in all of England and there’s a three month waiting period before you can even get a session. He’s not cheap either, but, well, as you can see, totally fucking worth it._ ” When Elyan had asked how much, Leon had actually spit out his mouthful of beer in shock at the answer. – and everyone had gone home, that Arthur approached him.

 

Gwaine was sitting outside in the back garden of the pub, finishing a last beer, his gaze turned up toward the sky. It was actually a bit warm for an April evening, and Gwaine had never bothered to put his button down back on. Glass in hand, Arthur sat down in the seat next to him and nudged him with his foot.

 

“Can I get another look?” Arthur asked, turning to study Gwaine’s arm. Gwaine looked at him out of the corner of his eye and then shifted in his seat, holding his arm out. Arthur took him by the wrist and leaned in, running both fingers and eyes over the intricate inkings.

 

“Thinking of getting one?” Gwaine asked, speaking to Arthur directly for the first time all evening.

 

And Arthur was. He had been thinking of getting one for quite some time actually. It had been three years since he’d become the full beneficiary of the trust his mother had set up in his name, and two years since he had left his father’s company to form one of his own, broken up with Gwen and come out. It had been two years of doubts and even harder questions after a lifetime of them. Two years of late nights, and working until midnight and on week-ends, trying to keep it all afloat and make sure everything fit. Two years of trying to convince himself he wasn’t crazy, that Leon, Elyan and Lance shouldn’t have left _Pendragons_ to follow Arthur as he tried to create something better, something he could be proud of, while oftentimes being sure he would fail.

 

Gwaine had been there through all of it. Usually the first to tease or make a brash joke, openly bisexual Gwaine had been Arthur’s strongest supporter after Arthur had finally realised a big part of what was wrong. He hadn’t joked, and he hadn’t asked if Arthur was sure or just going through a phase, as Leon had. And he hadn’t railed and cursed at him for hurting Gwen, like Morgana. Instead he’d been a strong and unusually quiet friend, answering Arthur’s questions and taking him out to get pissed after the long shouting matches with Uther before his father had finally disowned him in disgust. But after two years, two of the hardest years of Arthur’s life, he and Gwen were friends again, and _Camelot Consulting_ was in the black and considered a serious and pro-active competitor in the business world. At 28, Arthur felt more centered and sure of himself than he ever had, and he’d been thinking of getting a tattoo as a way to mark this phase of his life. A way to commemorate all of his losses and triumphs, a mark on his skin to prove that he had done more than survive, he had overcome. That he was stronger for it, and proud of who he was.

 

So yeah, a tattoo.

 

“Actually, I am.” Arthur answered, studying the twisting and twirling lines of bright colours that ran from the inner curve of Gwaine’s shoulder all the way down to his wrist. “Your guy, he good?”

 

“The best,” Gwaine said, and there was a tone in his voice that caused Arthur to look up. He found Gwaine studying him, and once again there was an unusual cast to Gwaine’s gaze, intense and sharp, as if he were seeing Arthur for the first time. Arthur sat back and straightened his shoulders, feeling strangely as if he was preparing himself for a battle, before Gwaine shook his head and smiled. “Like I said, he comes off as a bit strange at first. But he knows his shite. You tell him what you want, and he’ll give you something even better. As soon as I was on his table and he stared working on me, I don’t know, I just felt like I could trust him. Like I was safe in his hands.”

 

“Huh,” Arthur said, staring once again at Gwaine’s new ink. He found his eyes drawn again and again to the knight and the castle that seemed to be the focus of his half turned gaze. There was something devoted and brave in the cast of his chin, determined in spite of everything else going on around him that kept calling to Arthur’s eye. “Three months?”

 

Gwaine laughed then, warm and pleased and strangely self-satisfied. He pulled his arm away and reached for the back pocket of his jeans, getting out his mobile. “Sefa, the shop manager is a friend of mine, and she owes me a favour. Let me see what I can do.”

 

***

 

Two nights later Arthur received a text from Gwaine with an address and the message _Friday, three weeks from now. 6:00. Ask for Merlin._

 

So really, in the end, it was all Gwaine’s fault.


	2. Chapter 2

**The First Session**

 

Three weeks later, Arthur found himself standing in front of a brightly lit shop down a small, but well-travelled side street in North London. _Excalibur Ink_ was comfortably nestled between a tiny designer jewelry boutique on one side and a book store on the other. Gwaine had sent him a second text the next day, telling him to call and put a deposit down on his session, and when he did, he had gotten a list of instructions that had included “ _Wear something comfortable and that you’re not worried about getting ruined. You’re going to be sitting in one position for quite a while, and there may be a bit of blood and some splatter. And make sure to take a shower before you get here, yeah? Believe me when I tell you that no tattoo artist appreciates having to sit over someone who smells like yesterday’s lunch for three hours. There are other instructions on the website. Make sure to give it a read before you get here, I’ll email you the link._ ” So Arthur, who had stopped by his gym for a quick shower after work and was wearing a comfortable pair of jeans and a well-worn red tee shirt, felt reasonably sure he knew what to expect as  he walked through the door and up to the reception counter in the front.

 

He had spent the past three weeks waiting for his appointment researching tattoo shops in his off hours, so he knew what to look for and what were warning signs. He knew that the artist would wear gloves and use a new set of needles for each session. They should answer any questions he might have both before and after the session. He knew that tattooing had come a long way from its earlier days of back alley shops and unsanitary conditions, and that tattoo artists could now do amazing things with skin and ink. But he was still pleasantly surprised as he got his first look at the interior of _Excalibur Ink_.

 

It was a bright and open space, with hardwood floors and strategically placed mirrors. On the wall behind the counter the shop’s current licenses were clearly displayed, ( _another good sign_ , Arthur’s research had told him), and beyond that he could see a series of four separate stations, all currently occupied. Some of the artists were chatting with their customers, and some of them were working quietly. There was artwork on the walls, movie posters, prints of Japanese woodcuts and framed photos of tattoos. A back corner was separated by a set shoji screens, and there was a couch in the reception area, where two young women were slowly flipping through a vinyl bound portfolio on a low coffee table. There was something tribal and moody playing on the speakers, and above that all the droning buzz of the tattoo machines. But overall, Arthur thought as he looked around, it was a professional and easy going space, filled with happy voices and encouraging energy, and he could easily see why it had such a good reputation.

 

“Can I help you?” The young receptionist asked as he approached the counter. She had yellow and green hair, a lip piercing and gauges in her ear. But her smile was bright and her voice friendly as she spoke.

 

“Um, yeah, I’m Arthur. I have a 6 o’clock appointment with Merlin.” Arthur was surprised to find that he was strangely nervous as he answered.

 

“Gwaine’s friend?” She asked, giving him a scrutinizing look before she turned and began to type something into the computer on the counter.

 

“Yes. Sefa?” Arthur asked as he watched her long nails dance across the keys.

 

“That’s me,” she chirped before nodding. And then she smiled at him again. “OK, so you’re a few minutes early, but that’s all right. We actually like that here. Merlin works upstairs. But before I send you up there, I need you to read and sign these.” She handed Arthur a clipboard and a pen. Arthur carefully read the release form, which asked him to verify that he was of a legal age, was aware of the risks involved with getting a tattoo, wasn’t under the influence of any drugs or alcohol, didn’t have any conditions that could affect the healing process, and had been provided with the proper aftercare instructions.

 

“Any questions?” Sefa asked, once Arthur had handed the signed paperwork back to her.

 

“I don’t think so.” Arthur murmured as he took another look around the shop.

 

“First tat?” Sefa asked, cocking her head at him.

 

“Uh, yeah.”

 

“It’s OK to be nervous, but don’t worry. You’re in good hands here. Merlin’s an amazing artist, you’ll see. Now,” With that, Sefa reached beneath the counter, and then continued “Just go through the door right behind me, take the stairs up one flight, and it’s the first door on your left. Merlin’s expecting you so I’ll buzz you right through.” Arthur heard a click, and then Sefa was pointing to a door behind her that he hadn’t noticed before.

 

Arthur went.

 

***

 

The upstairs area wasn’t that different from the downstairs, at least at first. After going through a red curtained glass door, Arthur found himself in a room that was just as bright, but less crowded. He could hear the sound of a tattoo gun working, and there was a faded couch and a cluster of comfortable looking chairs in one corner. As he passed yet another set of shoji screens, he found himself stepping into a wide and airy room, with curtained windows running along one wall. The rest of the walls were covered with more artwork, but it was different from what was downstairs. Here there were impressionist prints mixed with what looked like copies of Renaissance tapestries. There were Japanese watercolours and photographs from the 1920s, old album covers and even a few Disney princesses. Over a hundred different images, running along the walls that shouldn’t have matched, that should have been chaotic. Instead it all flowed, and asked the viewer to trust and follow its path. So Arthur did, which was why his eye was pulled upward to the ceiling, and why, once he saw what was there, he gasped.

 

There, on the ceiling, was a cityscape. Not just any cityscape, it was London. But not a London he had ever seen before. The buildings were strongly cut and darkly shaded, but in their windows were the reflections of the life around it. Commuters rushing off the Tube, mothers playing with their children in Hyde Park, young lovers walking by the Thames. It was strong and vital, but protective of its dwellers, offering its amenities, but never sacrificing its identity while it did so. There was laughter and also despair in the images, but a deep sense of pride as well. And beyond the buildings of the cityscape, someone had painted the night sky. They had replicated not only the dim stars that could only be seen on the clearest of nights, but a vibrant whirlpool of colours and comets, galaxies and nebulas, moons and ringed planets. There was something almost sentient about it, as it looked down at London fiercely, and who London seemed to be reaching back for. 

 

It was one of the most beautiful things Arthur had ever seen. It felt like London, his London, the city of his dreams and inner heart. And it felt like home.

 

“What do you think?” A voice near his ear jolted Arthur out of his contemplation. Arthur jerked his eyes away from the ceiling to see a tall, thin, dark haired man standing by his side, looking at him with a Cheshire cat grin.

 

“It’s brilliant,” Arthur answered honestly, taking a look around the room, needing to refamiliarize himself with the here and now, and not the mythic landscape of the city of his soul.

 

“Good to hear, good to hear. So many of our customers spend so much time lying on their backs while getting inked, we wanted to give them something interesting to look at while we worked.”

 

“It took fucking forever though,” another voice called from somewhere to Arthur’s right.

 

“Oh shut up Will, you know you loved every minute of it.”  The man gave him another wry grin at Will’s very pointed “ _Sod off_!” and then stepped around him, holding out his hand. “Are you Arthur, my 6 o’clock?”

 

“Yes. And you’re Merlin?” Arthur reached out to shake the proffered hand. Merlin had long, fine-boned fingers, and a cool, steady grip that was deceptively strong as he shook Arthur’s hand. Merlin nodded and then walked passed him, motioning for Arthur to follow, leading him to one of only two stations set up in the room.

 

“First off, welcome to _Excalibur Ink_. I am Merlin, and we’ll be working together on your tattoo. That wanker over there-“ “Fuck you Merls” “-That’s Will, co-owner and mate.” Arthur glanced over his shoulder to the other work station, to see a young, dark blond man leaning over a woman who was lying on her side, with her arm thrown over her head. Will had a tattoo gun in one hand, and a paper towel in the other that he was using to carefully blot at the woman’s skin. Arthur heard a surprisingly gentle “How you doing there, love? Not much longer, kay? Just another 15 minutes or so,” before turning back to face Merlin, and actually _look_ at him for the first time.

 

It was then, Arthur decided, that he was going to _kill_ Gwaine. Gwaine had told Arthur a lot about Merlin in the past couple of weeks, answering all of Arthur’s questions. But never in any of his “ _He’s a genius mate_ ” or “ _Trust me, he’s got amazingly steady hands”_ or “ _He mixes all of his own colours, and I’ve never seen the like_ ” had Gwaine mentioned once, even one single time, that Merlin was also _absolutely bloody gorgeous_.

 

He was tall and thin, with long lean legs and sinuous arms. He had pale skin, full, pink lips, and sharp cheekbones. He also had the bluest eyes Arthur had even seen, sharp and bright and deep. Beneath a red bandana, his hair was black and unruly, and it curled around a pair of big ears that should have been awkward, but were somehow charming instead. Those ears had two cartilage piercings on the left, and two piercings high on the right, connected by a thin steel bar. He was wearing skinny black jeans with a studded belt draped low around thin hips, red converse, and a faded and worn tee with some old band logo on the front. Giving him another look over, Arthur was surprised to find that he didn’t see any ink, anywhere, on Merlin’s skin.

 

Seeming to read the confusion in Arthur’s gaze, Merlin said “Oh yeah, I’ve got it, just not where you can see,” as if this was a question he’d answered a thousand times before.

 

“He’s got a big red heart on his left arsecheek. It’s say mum in the center.” Will called, earning a giggle from the woman on his table.

 

“Sod off Will,” Merlin replied, before sitting down on a rolling stool and motioning for Arthur to sit on the massage table next to him.

 

“So, you’re here for some ink,” Merlin said, and his voice changed. It was no longer soft and playful, but dark and deep, like the best brewed coffee. “What are you looking for?”

 

“A dragon,” Arthur answered.

 

“Nice choice,” Merlin said with a nod. “Why a dragon?”

 

Arthur found the question strange. He was the one paying for the session, and he thought he should just be able to tell Merlin what he wanted, and then walk out a few hours later with the design on his skin. But then he remembered Gwaine’s words “ _He comes off as a bit strange at first. But he knows his shite. You tell him what you want, and he’ll give you something even better_.” Arthur figured this was just part of Merlin’s process, so he replied “The past couple of years haven’t been easy. There have been a lot of changes, not all of them good at first.  But things have started to come together, and I finally feel like I’m at good place in my life. Strong, like I’m where I need to be. Dragons are strong and brave, and well,” and here Arthur found himself shrugging “I want something to commemorate all I’ve been through, and I figured a dragon was the right image.” He didn’t mention that he was fascinated by them, that he’d dreamt of them all of his life, and felt a deep tie to them, even deeper than the fact that his last name was Pendragon. That somehow he felt that dragons knew what it was like to watch the world around you change, to accept that, and still emerge proud and strong and victorious.

 

When he looked up, Merlin was nodding. “They’re a powerful totem. European or Asian style?”

 

“What’s the difference?”

 

“European dragons are the ones with the big wings. Asian ones tend to be bearded, more snakelike, like the ones you see in Chinatown during their New Year’s celebrations. Both are very powerful, but they symbolize different things to different cultures.”

 

“European.”

 

“Where do you want it?”

 

“My back.” Arthur responded. It was at that point that Merlin stood up and walked around the table, carefully studying Arthur’s body as he went.

 

“What about style? Are you thinking something tribal, realistic or more fantastical?”

 

“Aren’t they all fantastical? They’re dragons after all,” Arthur asked, turning his head to follow Merlin’s progress.

 

“Not necessarily. What I meant is, some people come in and what they want is a Komodo dragon, or a big lizard with wings. I can do that if that’s what you’re interested in. Or I can give you something more.”

 

Arthur thought about it for a moment before responding “Something more, definitely something more. I don’t want it to look like a lizard, but I want it to be believable. With wings and scales and a tail.” Merlin made a _hmm_ sound, and nodded again.

 

“Colour or just black with shading?”

 

“Colour. Definitely colour.” Arthur paused then, before adding “Red. I want it to be red.” Merlin gave his back one long, last look before nodding to himself, taking a deep breath and then turning back to Arthur.

 

“Right,” he said with another nod. “That’s definitely something I can do for you.” He went over to his station and picked up a pad and pencil. “So here’s what we’re going to do. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

 

“Er, no.” Arthur frowned. “I didn’t think I should before our session.”

 

“Yeah, no. That’s a bad idea.” Merlin told him. “Tattooing’s stressful on the human body. Your body’s going to need some fuel to help you get through it. Too many people are too nervous to eat before a session, and their blood sugar ends up crashing and that’s why they pass out. There’s a pub on the corner, the Rising Sun. Head down there and grab yourself some food, preferably something with a good amount of protein.” Here Merlin paused and gave him a serious look. “No alcohol mind. If I catch even a whiff of booze on you when you come back, I won’t work on you. On your way back, pick up a sports drink or two. Maybe even a candy bar. Keeping hydrated will also help. Give me about an hour, and when you get back, I should have something for you.” Merlin turned to focus his attention to the paper in his hand, his fingers twirling the pencil.

 

“But I thought…” Arthur paused, and waited for Merlin to acknowledge him. Merlin only raised his eyebrow with a soft “hmmm,” his gaze never leaving the paper in front of him. “Well, Gwaine said that you only work freehand.”

 

At this Merlin looked up, and gave a slight shake of his head. “I do,” Merlin said, before turning back to the sketchpad. “But I like to do a very simple sketch before I start. It will only be a guideline, and I’ll fill in the details as I work, but this way you’ll have a general idea of what to expect before I start.” And with that, Merlin put his pencil to paper, and began to sketch, effectively dismissing Arthur.

 

“Fucking Gwaine,” Arthur muttered as he made his way back down the stairs. “He better be a fucking genius, because the guy’s a bloody idiot.”

 

***

 

An hour later, after finishing off a burger and some chips, Arthur was back at Merlin’s station, staring down at the sketch in his hands.

 

“So, I know you said red, and it will be, mostly. But I’m thinking of adding some gold highlights to the wings and the scales. It will give it some depth, and more of a presence.” Merlin was telling him. “The top of the head will end at the base of your neck, and the wings will spread over your shoulders and down the top of your arms a bit. The body will cover most of your back, but the tail will wrap around your left hip, and curl up a bit, ending about right here.” At this, Merlin pointed to his lower left side. “I know it’s probably a bit bigger than you were expecting, and it will take quite a few sessions, but, well, I think this is your dragon. What do you think?”

 

Arthur didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He could only stare at the picture in his hands. It was only a sketch, a vague outline, but already he could see the details that Merlin was describing. The dragon was long and lean and strong. Its face would be in profile, and the wings would cover his shoulders and wrap around his arms, just as Merlin said. He could see the red and gold of it, of how the colours would blend and merge along its body as it swooped down his back, strong and fierce and powerful. This dragon, it was _his_ dragon. It was a warrior and a protector, fearless in its flight, and Arthur needed it on his back.

 

“Arthur,” Merlin was saying, obviously having repeated himself several times. “What do you think? Do you like it?”

 

Arthur looked up and smiled at him. “It’s perfect. When do we start?”

 

***

 

Five minutes later, Arthur was sitting on a massage chair, shirtless, his arm laying comfortably on one of the armrests. Merlin was sitting on his rolling stool next to him, snapping on a blue pair of latex gloves. He pulled out a few packets of alcohol swabs from one of the drawers in the rolling cabinet by his station, as well as a disposable razor, and began to sterilize the back of Arthur’s shoulder, and then shave off the hair. Arthur watched as he then began to fill a series of tiny plastic cups with different inks, and then removed a set of needles from a sealed pouch. As he worked, Merlin spoke to Arthur.

 

“Okay, I’m going to start with the left wing today. That should take me a couple of hours, and will be all that your body can probably handle today. This is your first tattoo, yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Right, so I’m not going to lie, it is going to hurt. But it won’t be too bad, just remember to breathe through it. After about 15 minutes or so, the endorphins are going to kick in, and then you’ll find you’re not noticing the pain so much at all. Just let go and let them do their job. The most important thing to remember is to try not to move. If you have to cough or sneeze, let me know. But the stiller you are, the easier the work’s going to go. Now, if at any point, it starts to feel like it’s too much or you start to feel woozy or nauseous, let me know immediately and we’ll take a break. Too many folks, especially blokes, feel like they have to tough it out, and trust me, that just makes it worse. So let me know. Got all that?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Right then,” Merlin said, bending forward to look Arthur in the eyes. “You ready?”  At Arthur’s nod, Merlin gave him a wink, smiled and then shifted his chair so he could lean over Arthur’s shoulder. “Let’s do this then.” Arthur heard the buzz of the tattoo machine turning on, and then Merlin began to work.

 

Merlin was right. It did hurt, and not just a bit. It felt like someone was running a hot, metal tipped pen over his skin, one that left burning trails in its wake. But Merlin’s hands were steady and cool on his skin, surprisingly gentle for what he was actually doing, and Arthur found that as long as he focused on his breathing, it wasn’t that bad at all.

 

“All right there, mate?” Merlin asked, maybe five or ten minutes in.

 

“Yeah,” Arthur answered, keeping his eyes closed before taking another deep breath.

 

“You’re doing aces.” Merlin told him, as he blotted Arthur’s skin with a folded paper towel. “Just give it a few, and the endorphins should kick in.” Arthur did, breathing in and out, in and out, slow and deep. And eventually he felt it, the first slow rush of endorphins. The pain lessened, and his breathing came easier, and then…

 

_The day is hot and dry, and the dust from the fields is getting into everything. He can feel it caking into the skin of his neck, and the joints of his armour. The sun is bearing down on everyone and everything with a heavy, hot hand, and it seems as if there is no shade to be found anywhere._

_Three of his friends are with him, and they are laughing at something he’s just said. But even so, even with their laughs and nods of agreement, he still feels hot and tight and annoyed. So that’s why when he sees one of the servants stumble clumsily across the practice field, he decides to have a little fun. He is the prince after all, and if he wants something to amuse him, well then, it’s the servant’s privilege to provide him with some entertainment._

_It’s just after he’s thrown his fifth knife, and the idiot has dropped the wooden target he’s been ordered to carry, that he first hears the voice._

_“Hey,” it says, “Come on, that’s enough.” He turns to find some peasant standing next to his bit of fun. He’s tall and thin and pale, and obviously has no idea how things work around here if he’s daring to interrupt._

_“What?” He’s incredulous as he starts walking forward. Doesn’t this idiot know who he is? Who he dares to address?_

_“You’ve had your fun, my friend.” The presumptuous fool is actually shaking his head at him as he walks closer._

_“Do I know you?” He asks with a sneer, still unable to accept the idiocy he’s being forced to deal with._

_”Uh,” the stranger replies, holding out his hand. “I’m-_

 

“Merlin.” Arthur gasped, his head jerking backward from where it had been resting against the chair. The man’s name was Merlin, and Arthur _remembered_ him. He remembered that day, and the feel of the sun, hot and oppressive on the back of his neck. He remembered throwing his knives at that servant, whose name he never did learn. And he remembered…He remembered Merlin being the one to stop him, and somehow knowing, but not knowing how, that this was the beginning of something important.

 

Behind him, he heard the sound of a breathless, choked off gasp, and then suddenly the buzzing of the tattoo gun stopped.

 

“You all right there mate?” Will’s voice called from across the room. “It looked like you were both pretty deep in the zone.” Arthur looked around to find Will walking toward them, coming to stand behind Merlin so he could study Arthur’s shoulder. Merlin, for his part, had already put the tattoo gun down and was reaching for something on his station. He sat back with a spray bottle in his hand, which he vigorously shook while he scrutinized Arthur’s shoulder.

 

“Yeah, right, we’re done for today.” He said, as he dabbed at Arthur’s shoulder with a fresh paper towel.

 

“Really? That’s it?” Arthur’s voice sounded hoarse and his throat felt as if he swallowed a desert. _It had been so hot back there,_ and Arthur could still feel the grit of it in his throat. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the last of the images, before he craned his neck in an attempt to get a look at his shoulder.

 

“That’s it, he says,” Will chided. He bent down and picked up one Arthur’s forgotten sports drinks from the floor. “Mate, you’ve been at it for four hours.”

 

“Four hours?” Arthur asked, gratefully taking the opened bottle from Will’s hand. “What time is it?”

 

“Just going on eleven,” Merlin answered, and his voice sounded different than it did earlier. _Paler_ , Arthur thought, _weaker than it was before_. “But we’re done with this wing. Wanna take a look? Tell me what you think before I clean and wrap it up?” Merlin stood and then gestured to a full length mirror between both stations. There was something different about him now, Arthur thought. Where earlier he had been all easy grace and confidence, he now seemed..shaken, as if he had been startled and was trying to catch his breath. But Arthur’s shoulder was throbbng and he couldn’t really focus on Merlin right now, so instead he nodded and then finished his drink in four more greedy gulps, before he rose and approached the mirror.

 

He shoulder felt like it was on fire, an angry, bitter burn that went deeper than the skin. It ached with every step he took, and  he had a minute to curse Gwaine in his head before he turned and saw…

 

The wing arched out from just before the beginning of his shoulder blade, spreading out over the spine of his scapula before breathing out down along the upper part of his back and along the back of his arm, ending just below the curve on his bicep. The ridges were a deep red, darker than blood, that slowly bled into a crimson in its inner folds. From there the colour slowly shifted into a spiral of red and golds, (not yellow, not orange as he had seen on other tattoos, but a bright, glittering gold), that spread into the wing, before ending in swirls of more red. The spines of the wing were sharp and clearly defined, yet still seemed to cradle the inner folds in the gentlest of holds. And as he twisted and turned his arm, the wing seemed to move with him, following his muscles as if preparing for flight. It was glorious and vibrant and striking and the most beautiful thing Arthur had ever seen. And it was now a permanent part of his skin.

 

“Well, what do you think?” Merlin asked, coming up beside him with more paper towels and the spray bottle in his hand.

 

“It’s…It’s…” Arthur couldn’t find the words to express how his heart raced just looking at it. “Holy shite Merlin. It’s amazing!”

 

“So you’re pleased then, yeah?” Merlin asked, staring at his own work on Arthur’s back as if he had never seen it before.

 

“Oh yes, definitely. Gwaine was right about you.” Arthur said, rolling his shoulder blade just to watch the wing arch and flex again.

 

“Glad to hear it,” Merlin said, and then his posture shifted as if he was coming to, and it was all back to business. “Right, let’s clean you up and get some antiseptic on you, and then you can take a picture before I bandage you up.” Merlin led him back to his chair and began to dab at Arthur’s skin with the paper towel before spraying something on Arthur’s shoulder that was so good  Arthur’s eyes actually fluttered and he ended up moaning. “Yeah, that’s the good stuff.” Merlin chuckled at him, and then began to spread something cool and thick over the entire piece. “You bled a bit, but not a lot so I don’t see any problems with it healing. Once I bandage it up, you’re going to want to keep it covered for the next few hours. When you wake up tomorrow, remove the bandage and take a shower, letting the water do most of the work. Then you’re going to want to keep it moisturized with an unscented lotion while it heals. There’s a couple of brands recommended in your aftercare instructions, or you could buy some of the stuff we keep downstairs. But to be honest, it’s cheaper if you just pick something up from one of your local shops. But good quality stuff, none of the cheap shite. Wear loose clothing while it heals, preferably cotton so that it can breathe. In a couple of days, it’s going to start to peel. That’s normal. But do not, I repeat, _do not_ pick or scratch at it. That’ll ruin it. It should be sore and tender for a few days, and a little red around the area, but if you notice any swelling or puss, call us right away. Keep it out of the sun and avoid chlorine. But otherwise, it should heal fine, and if there’s any fading, we’ll touch that up at your next session. Got all that?” Arthur just nodded, melting into Merlin’s touch as he continued to spread the viscous gel onto his skin. “Okay, then hand me your phone and we’ll take a few pics before I wrap you up. Once we’re done here, you can go back down to Sefa and pay, and set up your next session.”

 

Fifteen minutes later, Arthur was standing outside the darkened windows of _Excalibur Ink_ , with a bandaged shoulder, an aftercare kit in his hand, and an appointment for the same day and time in three weeks. His back ached, he was more tired than he thought he would be, and his credit card now had a _huge_ balance he had to make sure to pay off tomorrow. Yet overall, he was pleased with the experience. He felt as if he had endured something grueling, and had come out better for the experience, and his shoulder, even as it ached and throbbed, felt lighter than it ever had.

 

But as he walked away, he couldn’t help but remember the feeling of heat on his skin, choking dust in his throat, and a hand held out to him as a voice whispered “ _Merlin_ ” in his ear. And as he turned onto the main street in search of a taxi, he could have sworn he felt someone watching him as he went.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Second Session**

Three weeks later, Arthur was back at _Excalibur Ink,_ two sport drinks and a candy bar in the bag in his right hand. He had once again showered and changed his clothes, but this time he had stopped to eat a turkey sandwich on his way there. He was less nervous and felt better prepared as he walked through the door and approached the counter.

                     

“So you’re back then?” Sefa smiled at him. Her hair was a bubble gum pink this time, to match her long nails. The shop was even more crowded than during his last visit, with several people clustered around the couch in front, flipping through the scattered portfolios.

 

“Second session,” Arthur responded with a nod.

 

“Knew you would be,” she said with a smirk. “Tattoos are addicting. Very few people stop at just one.”

 

“Sefa!!” A sharp, female voice interrupted. “I’m starting to run low on Lagoon Blue!”

 

“Give me a minute Freya!” Sefa called back. “I’m checking in a customer. I’ll get it for you in a sec!” She looked at Arthur and shrugged. “Sorry ‘bout that. K, you’re a bit early again, but that’s fine. Merlin’s waiting for you upstairs. You know the way, yeah? I’ll buzz you up.” Arthur turned toward the door behind the counter just in time to hear “ _Sefa!_ ” and a responding “Oh calm your tits, you rabid cow! I’m getting it now.”

 

Arthur couldn’t help but smile as he made his way up the stairs. For all of their shouting, it held the familiarity of old friends, or maybe family, reminding him a bit of his own relationship to his half-sister. He and Morgana tended to shout more than speak to each other, but there was usually an undercurrent of fondness in their rows. He knew he could trust her, and he was certain she felt the same. The only real fight they had ever had had been after he had come out, and that had not been about his sexuality, but more about the fact that he had lied to everyone for so long, and hurt Gwen so deeply in the process.

 

_“You couldn’t have just trusted us? Me?” She had said, her eyes bright with hurt and anger. “You had to keep it a secret? You had to hurt Gwen instead of just being honest with us?”_

_“I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt anybody, especially not Gwen. Do you think it was easy? But I just…I just couldn’t Morgana, not even to myself.”_

_She had sniffed at him, and when he looked at her eyes, he could see the tears there that she was refusing to let fall._

_“You should have trusted me. I would have helped you.”_

_He had moved forward, reaching for her hand, but she had stepped away. “I do Morgana, I do.” She had looked at him, studying him carefully, before finally giving him a brisk nod, and then reaching out to take his hand._

_“No more secrets Arthur. Promise me, no more secrets.”_

_“No more secrets Morgana.” Arthur had squeezed her fingers. “I promise.”_

 

Arthur paused on the stairs as the memory fell away. He had kept his promise, or he had tried to. But Morgana could be harsh, even in her love, and some things were just too private. He hadn’t told Morgana, or anyone except for Gwaine, about getting a tattoo. There was something about it, something that felt too intense and personal to share just yet. He hadn’t even really spoken to Gwaine about it, except to send him a pic of it the next day, to which Gwaine had texted back “ _Told you he was brilliant.”_

 

But Gwaine had been unusually circumspect and Arthur found he understood Gwaine’s desire not to talk about his until it was finished. Arthur had spent the past three weeks staring in the mirror more than he had when he had been fifteen and the first few sparse hairs had started sprouting from his chin. In the morning when he dressed, after he took a shower at night, and sometimes just because he had wanted to see, he would find himself staring at his back in the mirror, studying the wing that trailed down his arm. He would roll his shoulder just to watch it flex and move, arch and spread as if preparing for flight. He had been meticulous in his aftercare, and Merlin hadn’t lied when he said it would itch. But he hadn’t scratched (even if his assistant George had found him rocking his shoulder against a corner wall more than a few times, he had been smart enough not to say anything) and he hadn’t picked at it (and he had wanted to, _oh god_ how he had wanted to), but still, even after three weeks he found he couldn’t stop staring at it. It wasn’t that it was strange, or if Arthur regretted it. No, it was more as if he had been waiting his entire life to see that wing there. Or maybe, as if the wing had been waiting Arthur’s entire life  for his back to make its home.

 

And then there had been the dreams. Arthur had always dreamed, but these had been different. Vibrant yet unfocused, with faces that seemed familiar and snatches of conversation that felt  so crucial, as if great decisions rested on their outcome, but faded as soon as he woke. They always left him with a certainty that he couldn’t explain, that they were important, that if he just had held on a little bit harder, it would all make sense. They left him feeling disconcerted, and hungering for more, but no matter how he tried to focus on them, they would slip from his memory like water through sand, leaving him yearning for something he could not name.

 

Only staring at the tattoo would calm him. So he did. He stared and stared and stared, until his equilibrium returned and he could turn his attention back to his day.

 

He hoped that getting the second wing would fix that, that part of it was just some inherent sense of imbalance he felt at having only one of the wings completed.

 

So it was with that hope clutched in his heart that Arthur took a deep breath, stepped up the rest of the stairs and walked once more through the red curtained door.

 

***

 

“It looks good,” Merlin said, as he studied Arthur’s back from his rolling stool. “It’s healed really well. Any problems?” He was dressed similarly to how he had been during their first session, except today he was wearing black converse and a blue bandanna over his hair. Arthur thought they looked ridiculous, but somehow they still seemed to suit Merlin.

 

“Not really, no,” Arthur replied, feeling the scrutiny of Merlin’s gaze on his back. “It was sore and tender for a few days, like you said, but other than that, it was fine. Except for the itching. It really fucking itched.”

 

Merlin laughed then, deep and soft. “Yeah, they do that. But it doesn’t look like you scratched it, which is good. In fact, it doesn’t look like it’s going to need any touching up at all, so I can start on the other side right away. Did you remember to eat?”

 

“Yes _Mer_ lin, right before I got here.” Arthur replied, wondering at the tone he took. He didn’t usually tease people he didn’t know very well. But then again, Merlin had spent four hours deep in Arthur’s skin, turning his flesh into art, so maybe a little familiarity was okay now.

 

“Good lad,” Merlin was snapping on another pair of those blue latex gloves. “I’m going to start working on the right wing today. You held up really well last time, so I should be able to finish it in this session.” Arthur could already recognize the tone in Merlin’s voice, the one that said he was shifting into that zone where he was slipping away from Arthur and into the space where Arthur’s skin turned into his canvas. Arthur took a deep breath and rested his face in the cradle on the massage chair.

 

A few minutes later, after his skin had been cleaned and shaved, he heard Merlin’s murmur by his ear “Ready Arthur?” Arthur took another deep breath and nodded. At Merlin’s “Let’s do this then” Arthur closed his eyes and put himself in Merlin’s hands.

 

***

 

_It is windy here by the shore. But the sky is blue, and the waves are crashing against the rocks in a whisper that would normally soothe him. It is beautiful and bright and Arthur hates it here._

_Merlin is already there, because of course he would be. (_ And Arthur knows that it is Merlin, knows it in his blood and in his bones. _) His servant (_ and that’s wrong, Arthur thinks, it shouldn’t be that way _) has become his shadow, his ally, his…friend. And now Merlin is sitting at the table, staring down at the two goblets that hold their fate._

_And Arthur hates Merlin then, just a little bit, because he shouldn’t be here. This is Arthur’s mistake, Arthur’s fault and Merlin shouldn’t have to pay the price. If Arthur had only listened to Merlin about the unicorn…_

_But Arthur never listens._

_And Merlin, Merlin has never given up on him. Not even once. He pushes and he prods, and he argues and he challenges, more than any servant should. But he never falters, and he never blames. He knows when to step back and let Arthur think in silence, and he knows when that silence has become too thick, too heavy, and then he laughs and he teases, he pokes and he jokes, until Arthur can’t help but smile at him. And when Arthur stumbles or flails, Merlin is always there, not with accusations of worthlessness and failure, like his father, or cowardice and weakness, like Morgana, (“_ Morgana,” Arthur stutters at the thought, “why am I thinking about my sister?” _) but a calm, steady presence that urges Arthur to get up and try again._

_And now they are here, together._

_“I’m glad you’re here Merlin,” he says, meaning it more than anything he has ever said in his life. Merlin looks at him then, and his eyes (_ blue, Arthur remembers, even now they’re still the most beautiful blue he has ever seen _) sharpen._

_“I’ve got it,” Merlin says. “We pour all the liquid into one goblet, and then we can be sure it’s poison. And then all the liquid can be drunk and it will be from a single goblet.” He’s smiling now, because he has thought his way around the problem. And he thinks that he has thought his way around Arthur as well._

_But Arthur knows him. And this is not Merlin’s test to take, not his mistake to fix. He will not allow Merlin to make this sacrifice. (_ “You couldn’t bear it,” Arthur thinks to himself. “Not at the cost of his life. Not if it meant that you lived and he didn’t.” _) And then Arthur is distracting Merlin, and pouring the contents of Merlin’s goblet into his._

_“No!” Merlin shouts. “I will be the one to drink it!”_

_“As if I’d let you die.”_

_“You can’t die, this isn’t your destiny!” Merlin argues. And Arthur is so sick of that word, of destiny and duty, of having every moment of his life planned out for him. He will make this choice. He will make it for Merlin. Make it for himself, perhaps the first and only choice he has ever truly made for himself. And he will die happy, knowing Merlin lives._

_“Listen to me,” Merlin is begging now._

_“You know me Merlin, I never listen to you.” And Arthur shakes his head, and brings the goblet to his lips…_

 

“No!” Arthur jerked his head up at the sudden and sharp sound of Merlin’s voice. Merlin had pushed his stool away from the massage chair, and was leaning over, both of his hands on his knees, as he took deep, gulping breaths.

 

“What the fuck Merls? Are you all right?” Will called, as he walked over from his station, eyeing both Arthur and Merlin carefully.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Merlin gasped with a shake of his head. He lowered his eyes, and took a deep swallow, before he turned his face away. And somewhere in that movement, something must have caught the light, because Arthur swore he saw a flash of gold before Merlin turned away. “Sorry, sorry, my back spasmed and caught me off guard.”

 

“That must have been one fucking hell of a spasm mate. You shouted like someone kicked you in the nuts.” Will said, as he laid his hand on Merlin’s shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

 

Merlin nodded and then turned back to Arthur. “Sorry about that. How are you doing over there? I didn’t startle you too much, did I?”

 

Arthur took a moment to think about it. His heart, which had been racing only moments before, had slowly started to calm, and his back burned in the way he remembered from their last session. A part of him wondered where the ocean had gone, but that was slowly fading as he sat back and rolled his shoulder.

 

“No, I’m okay,” Arthur decided out loud, and then looked at Merlin, who had pulled his gloves off and was snapping on another pair. Merlin nodded and pulled a clean paper towel off of the roll at his station. He moved quickly and efficiently, but Arthur noticed that he didn’t lift his eyes, nor did he look at Arthur.

 

“Let me see.” Merlin rolled his chair back to its original position beside Arthur, and began dabbing at his back gently with the paper towel. There were a few areas that he touched up, quick jabs of pain as he redid a couple of spots he wasn’t satisfied with, and then a few more dabs of the paper towel, before he lowered the tattoo gun. “Yeah, we’re done. You can go take a look.”

 

Arthur did. He knew what to expect, but even so, when he approached the mirror and then turned around to look at his shoulder, what he saw still took his breath away. Before where there had only been the left wing, there was now a second running down the opposite side, just as vibrant, just as glorious. The shape was exactly the same, but the gold and red swirls within the folds were slightly different, making it seem as if the light was pouring over them, exactly the way it did with birds in flight. Arthur twisted and rolled his arm, watched as the colours rippled, and then turned his back so he could see both wings at the same time. They were simultaneously stunning and striking, elegant and bold, and Arthur briefly wondered if he arched his shoulder blades just so, would they extend and he be able to fly? He laughed suddenly and assumed it was the endorphins crashing, and then turned back around to look at Merlin.

 

 Who had been staring at Arthur with eyes that were both intense and weary at the same time, as if he was uncertain about Arthur and troubled by that uncertainty. But then he shook his head, glanced away, and when he turned back there was a small smile on his face.

 

“You like?” He asked, as he started to shake the familiar spray bottle.

 

“Merlin, it’s…it’s amazing. Thank you.”

 

“Good,” Merlin said and then nodded. “Good. I’m glad you like it. Want a picture?” After he was done taking pictures, Merlin directed Arthur back to the massage chair, where he slowly began to clean and bandage Arthur’s new ink.

 

“How long did that take?” Arthur asked, sipping from his sports drink while Merlin quietly worked behind him.

 

“About four hours. Same as last time.”

 

“Really?” It hadn’t felt like it to Arthur. In fact, it had felt like less than ten minutes had passed and then Arthur was remembering the beach and the wind and the blue. It had seemed so real, and Arthur could recall every detail, from the way the wind had felt in his hair, to the look on Merlin’s face when Arthur had brought the goblet up to his lips.

 

“Yeah.” Merlin replied. There was no chatting, no banter, not even a quick repetition of the aftercare instructions this time. If anything, Merlin seemed too quiet.

 

“It didn’t feel like it,” Arthur went on. “It felt like less than fifteen minutes actually. It didn’t even feel like I was even here at all.” Merlin’s hands stuttered on his back for a second, and then he pulled away, reaching for more tape from his station. “In fact, it felt-“

 

“That was just the endorphins mate.” Merlin interrupted, taping another bandage into place. “They do funny things to the mind sometimes. They’re a natural high and that’s why some people get so many tattoos. Happens all the time.”

 

_He’s lying,_ Arthur thought.

 

“Anyway, we’re done here.” Merlin said, a false brightness to his voice. “You did really well this session, took it like a champ. Any questions about aftercare, or do you remember everything from last time?”

 

“No, I remember…Merlin, I-“ Arthur faltered then. He looked at Merlin, who was fussing with all of the contents of his station, as if he were deliberately avoiding Arthur’s gaze. Suddenly Arthur didn’t know what to say. “Nothing, nevermind. Thank you.”

 

Merlin nodded, and then finally, finally looked up at Arthur only to smile weakly at him. “You’re welcome Arthur. Sefa will take care of the rest downstairs.”

 

“Okay,” Arthur said, picking up his tee shirt from where it was hanging on the wall. “See you in a few weeks then?”

 

Arthur heard a “Cheers, mate,” but Merlin had already turned away.

 

That night, as Arthur lay in bed, he thought about beaches and unicorns and goblets of poison. He thought about choices, and tattoos, and Merlin, always Merlin.

 

_He’s lying,_ Arthur thought again as his shoulder throbbed in time with his thoughts. _He knows something is going on and he’s lying about it. He always lied when he felt he had to protect-_

 

Arthur’s thoughts shuddered to a stop and he wondered how he knew that. Because he did know that, and he knew that it was true. Merlin did lie, but he only ever did it to protect Arthur, or because he was afraid.

 

As Arthur finally drifted off to sleep, he wondered again how he knew that about someone he had only met twice, and why was Merlin lying now. And in his dreams, he dreamt of dry dusty fields, white windy beaches, and Merlin. Always Merlin, Merlin, Merlin.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Third Session**

 

“Hey there handsome,” Sefa grinned at him a month later as Arthur approached the counter for his third appointment. Her hair was up in blue and lilac twists this time, and Arthur couldn’t help but smile. She was pretty and cheerful and Arthur found himself enjoying trying to imagine what colours her hair would be at each appointment. “Just give me a mo’ yeah? I have someone to finish checking in before you and then I’ll send you up.” Then she turned her head and called “Freya! Your six is here!”

 

Arthur turned and went to sit on the couch, watching as Sefa spoke to a broad, dark haired man who Arthur hadn’t noticed was standing by the counter. “So Val,” she was saying. “You said when you made your appointment that you wanted snakes?”

 

“Yeah, three of ‘em, wrapping around my arm.” His voice was low and gruff as he pointed to his left arm. “Heard Freya was the best for that, so here I am.”

 

“Oh she is, she is.” Sefa said as she took the clipboard from Val’s hand. “Everyone here has their specialty, but for beasties like that, Freya is one of our best.”

 

“Yeah?” Val asked, looking around. Arthur watched him, and noticed the way Val was shifting his weight from foot to foot slightly, clenching and unclenching his hand, as if he were trying to exude a confidence he didn’t really feel.

 

“Well Freya and Merlin, but Merlin’s booked up solid for the next few weeks.”

 

“Fucker’s expensive.” Val growled.

 

“Yes, well,” Sefa said, straightening slightly in her chair. “He’s also the owner and has the most experience. But don’t worry. Freya’s an _amazing_ artist. She’s been tattooing almost as long as Merlin, and creatures like snakes and lamia and bastets are her specialty.”

 

Something in her words caused Arthur to freeze, an echo in his mind, the toll of a bell in the distance. Something that felt familiar and sad at the same time.

 

But then a woman was approaching from behind the counter, and Arthur’s attention was caught.

 

She was a tiny thing, slim, with a pretty face and dark eyes. She moved with a strange and quiet grace, like a cat in the shadows, or water over stones, and Arthur found he could not stop staring. There was something about her, and Arthur was almost sure that he knew her. But then he realized that would be impossible. Because no matter how self-absorbed Morgana often accused him of being, Arthur knew he never would have forgotten knowing a woman with a half shaved head of dark hair, the rest of which trailed down her shoulders in tight braids. Or with both of her arms covered in tattooed sleeves, that Arthur somehow was certain was Merlin’s work.

 

Val loomed over her as she approached and held out her hand, but there was something sharp and keen in her gaze that said this woman would not be easily intimidated, and Arthur found himself liking her from that alone.

 

“Val?” She asked, and her voice was cutting and quick. At Val’s nod, she turned her head and motioned for him to follow her. “Cheers and welcome to _Excalibur Ink._ I’m Freya and I’ll be the one working on you today. Follow me and we’ll talk about what you’re looking for. Snakes, you said?” Val had puffed up his chest, obviously put out by being talked to so easily by someone so small, but then he seemed to deflate a bit and nodded, before following her into the back of the shop.

 

“Will she be all right?” Arthur asked quietly, as he made his way back to the counter.

 

“Who? Freya?” Sefa asked, stowing the clipboard beneath the surface of the desk.

 

“Yeah. Just he seemed a bit…”

 

“Rough?” Sefa asked with an arch of her eyebrow. “Aw, aren’t you a darling. But no worries mate. We get all sorts, and Freya knows how to handle herself. Besides, everyone here knows that Merlin and Will don’t allow any of that kind of bullshite here. Mess with any of the artists and you’re out on your arse and can’t come back, finished tattoo or not.”

 

“Yeah?” Arthur asked.

 

“Yeah.” Sefa said and then smiled at him. “It’s a great place to work, _Excalibur Ink_. Second home for a lot of us. Safe, you know?”

 

“Yeah,” Arthur said. And somehow he did.

 

“Right then love. Merlin’s waiting for you upstairs. Let me buzz you up.”

 

Arthur thought of her words as he made his way up the stairs. _Safe_ , Sefa had said. So had Gwaine, actually.  _“Like I was safe in his hands,”_ Arthur remembered. As Arthur pushed his way through the now familiar glass door, he couldn’t help but agree.

 

***

 

Arthur found himself rethinking that assessment as he walked into the upstairs studio to the sound of a tattoo gun’s buzz, and the sight of Will leaning over the upper inside of an older  woman’s thigh. He couldn’t help his grimace as he watched Will push a bright vibrant purple into the outline of an orchid on what he knew had to be tender skin.

 

“Yeesh.” He found himself wincing. At that Will looked up and gave him a wry grin.

 

“Nah, none of that.” He said, as he dabbed carefully at the smeared ink with a paper towel. “June  here is an old hand at this. One of our first clients.” At that, June lifted her arm and gave Arthur a cheerful wave.

 

“Newbie?” She asked Will as he dipped his gun into a small vile of ink.

 

“Third session,” Will responded, leaning back over her thigh. “Our Em is doing a dragon on his back.”

 

“Nice!” June approved, smiling at Arthur. Arthur nodded and stepped forward to get a better look at her tattoo. It was then that he saw it was actually part of a longer vine, one that  curled around her lower leg and up over her thigh. All along its length were bright blossoms, each a different flower in a different colour. It was actually quite beautiful, with sharp details and bright rich shades. June caught his gaze and smiled again. “One flower for each of my children, and then because it’s tradition, grandbabies.”

 

“Oh, well, congratulations.” Arthur said, thinking the idea, if not the placement, was lovely. A fitting tribute to a growing family.

 

“Thank you.” June said, leaning back slightly as Will continued to work. “Although you should know dearie, it’s rude to stare unless you’ve been invited.”

 

“Oh,” Arthur said, taking a step back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

 

“No worries,” she said, and gave him a kind wink. “Figured you didn’t, that’s why I said. But it’s okay. Anyway, what’s our Merlin going to be working on today?”

 

“Um,” Arthur said, realizing that he had no idea.

 

“I figured today we’d work on the head and the top of the neck.” Merlin said, appearing over Arthur’s shoulder. “Wow, that’s looking great guys.” Arthur jerked at the sound of his voice.

 

“Yeah,” Will murmured, leaning back to stare at the flower. “I’m giving that violet you mixed a go.”

 

“And?” Merlin asked, moving closer to Will to study the flower.

 

“It’s aces mate. Loving it so far.” June was nodding as Will spoke, obviously agreeing.

 

“Awesome, I’m glad.” Merlin said, and then finally turned to Arthur. “So, ready for your next session?” His bandanna was gray today, and instead of converse he was wearing a pair of Vans with what looked like New York City trains on them. He was smiling, but there was a quirk to it, something cautious and a little bit hesitant, but it seemed sincere all the same. At Arthur’s nod, his lip twitched slightly, revealing a dimple Arthur didn’t remember seeing before, and then he turned and walked towards his station.

 

“Right then, let’s get you ready.” And with that, they began.

 

***

_The room is oddly silent as Arthur slowly makes his way up the aisle. There are hundreds of people gathered here today, and where there should be whispers, murmurs, the rustling of cloth, a heavy quiet hangs in the air as Arthur approaches the dais. It is a day of new beginnings, the end of an era, but it is grief and mourning that colours all Arthur sees as he moves to stand before the throne._

_It is that grief, and that mourning that presses on his shoulders, that lowers him to his knees. His father is dead, and Camelot is crying for her new king. It is a role he has been preparing for his entire life, and yet in his heart it burns_ too soon, too soon _._

_He wonders if his father felt this way at his coronation, if he could feel the weight of an entire kingdom’s hopes and fears on his back, in his heart, as he waited for the crown._ How did you bear it Father _, he thinks as Geoffrey begins to speak the oaths that will seal his fate, tie him to this land and its people._ How did you stand the weight of it?

_The crown is heavy as it comes to lay upon his head. Heavy with a thousand promises, a thousand burdens, all his now, and his alone._

_For he is alone. In this room full of all of Camelot’s most important citizens, its advisors and courtiers, its traditions and history, he is the only one upon which it all rests. He wonders if it is that, that loneliness and sudden knowledge, that twisted his father’s heart and turned him toward madness at the end. And will his heart, given enough time, end up following the same path._

_He stands, and when he turns, he is no longer Prince Arthur, but King Arthur of Camelot. All of the faces are familiar to him, and as he looks out upon them, he lets them into his heart. They are his people now, and he must lead and care for them. The staff and the tradesmen, the nobles and the guards. His own knights, so very dear to him (_ “Wait,” Arthur thinks. “Is that…Is that _Gwaine?”), and Gwen, sweet, kind Gwen. Gaius and his uncle, all the people who have watched him grow from boy to man, and from man into king._

_He lets them into his heart, because even if he is alone now, they are his and he must protect them._

_But as their voices rise, there is one face in the crowd that Arthur looks for. One face which he knows will understand._ Merlin _, he thinks as he searches their faces. Merlin, who had waited outside the king’s room while Arthur knelt in his grief, who in that moment when he emerged had said to him_ “I didn’t want you to feel that you were alone.” _So he seeks that face, that one face that is beloved to him in ways he does not understand, but somehow matters more than all the rest._

_Merlin, who is standing next to Gaius, with his chin lifted and his shoulders back. Merlin, whose eyes are bright and strong as he meets Arthur’s gaze. Merlin, who opens his mouth and calls out  with both pride and passion…_

_“Long live the King!”_

_And Arthur knows that he will never be alone._

 

***

 

There was no jerk this time, no gasped breath, only a thick silence and a soft sigh as the buzz of the tattoo gun finally stopped. Arthur’s limbs felt heavy and thick, and his heart ached as it beat in his chest. There was a press of something against the tender skin on the back of his neck, and Arthur realised it was Merlin’s fingertips before they slowly slid away. _That was real_ , Arthur thought as he slowly came back to himself. _That really happened, and Merlin was there._

 

“Are we done?” Arthur asked, turning his head, feeling the familiar burn of newly inked skin. He looked toward Merlin to find him sitting by his side, his head hanging low, as if it were too heavy for him to hold up.

 

“For today, yeah.” Merlin’s voice was quiet, soft as he spoke, as if the weight Arthur had felt in his vision (and they were visions, Arthur was certain of that now) had passed into Merlin as well. And then Merlin took a slow, deep breath, shook his head, and quietly pushed the chair away.

 

“M-Merlin-“ Arthur began, only to have Merlin cut him off.

 

“I finished the head and most of the neck, connecting the wings.” Merlin said, as he slowly rose and made his way get more of those damned paper towels. “The top third is done now. Pretty much just the body and the tail’s left.” He started to blot the top of Arthur back, his fingers slower and heavier than they had ever been before. “When you take a look, you’ll be able to see most of it, and get a good idea of what’s left to go.”

 

“It looks amazing, Merls.” Will said as he came over to stare down at Arthur’s back. But Arthur could hear something strange in his voice, a note of concern and worry. “Even for you, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

 

“Thanks mate,” Merlin said, taking a step back. “Help me help him off the table so he can get a look.”

 

Merlin had him lie on a massage table this time, instead of the chair, and Arthur felt two hands on his arms as he slowly started to push himself off.

 

“You all right there?” Will asked, holding out Arthur’s opened sports drink as Arthur sat up. “Dizzy or anything?”

 

“No,” Arthur shook his head, and took first one sip, and then a second greedier gulp from the bottle as his body suddenly started to demand fluids.

 

“You looked like you were sleeping,” Will gave him a grin. “Quietest inking I’ve ever seen. But give it a minute, yeah? Let everything start to work again.”

 

“I’m okay.” Arthur said, but he found himself already reaching for the candy bar he knew was there somewhere. Will snorted and handed it over. “How long was it this time?”

 

“About three and a half hours.” Will answered, giving Merlin another look, but Merlin was avoiding both of their gazes, gathering all of the things he would need for the aftercare. “If you think you’re ready, go take a look.”

 

Arthur made his way over to the mirror, feeling the familiar burn in unfamiliar places. The air was cold on his skin, but he found himself growing more and more steady as he turned around to take a look at his back.

 

And what he saw once again left him speechless.

 

The dragon, and it was a dragon now, not just a pair of wings, was rising from the top of his back, its head turned toward the right with a fierce and triumphant growl, ready to roar. Its neck bled into the wings, that now had a master, a purpose to serve as they lifted it in flight. A cat-like eye blazed fiercely from its face, and there were red scales, and within each glowed a teardrop swirl of gold. There were ridges along it back, that flowed up its neck until they finally crested over its head, in a…in a…

 

_Crown_ , Arthur thought, and some understanding clicked into place in his mind. The dragon, his dragon, now wore a crown of gleaming gold. This dragon, this dragon was the king of all dragons, and it was his dragon. His crest, there, finally taking shape on the top of Arthur’s back.

 

“Holy shite Merlin,” he began, but then suddenly stopped. Will was standing next to Merlin, and he whispered something into his ear, concerned, worried. But Merlin only shook his head, and gave Will’s arm a quick squeeze, before he turned and made his way back toward Arthur.

 

“You like?” Merlin asked, and his voice was still quiet, still subdued.

 

“Like?” Arthur shook his head at him. “No Merlin, I don’t like it. I _love_ it. How…How did you know?”

 

“Dunno,” Merlin said with a shrug. “Sometimes, I just go into a zone and your skin tells me what needs to be there. I spend most of my energy just trying to capture that, and give your skin what it wants.”

 

“A zone? Arthur asked, studying Merlin, trying to find the truth in him. But Merlin just shook his head again, and stepped away. “It’s – it’s amazing. Thank you.” Arthur reached for Merlin, wanting both answers and to find some way to give him something, to say that he had been there, that this was the both of them, and that it confused him too, even as it slowly began to make sense. But Merlin was already too far away, and he was shaking his spray bottle as it was his only protection in the world.

 

“Right, well, give Will your camera and he can take some more pics. Then we’ll bandage you up and you can head downstairs and Sefa will take care of the rest.” And with that, Arthur knew the session was over, and he would get nothing else from Merlin that night.

 

***

 

Or so Arthur thought, until he started to make his way home, and saw a quick flicker out of the corner of his eye. It reminded him of a flash of gold, but when he turned toward the small alley that ran between _Excalibur Ink_ and the book store, he saw it was the glowing tip of a cigarette, being held by someone who was wearing a very familiar pair of Vans.

 

“You _smoke?_ ” Arthur accused, as he made his way down the alley.

 

“No,” Merlin replied just as sharply from where he was leaning against the wall. The light from the windows above cast a pale glow on Merlin’s face, and Arthur saw him roll his eyes. He had taken his bandanna off, and his hair curled around his face softly, like a baby bird’s feathers, tickling his ears. Arthur felt a sudden hunger to run his hands through those messy waves, but instead cut his eyes to the cigarette in Merlin’s hand, and arched an eyebrow. Merlin sighed and took another pull.

 

“I have one, just _one_ , at the end of the day after I’ve locked up,” Merlin went on. “Helps me sleep.”

 

“It’s a nasty habit _Mer_ lin.” Arthur rested his shoulder against the wall next to Merlin and studied his face. Merlin just shrugged and took another drag.

 

“Everybody’s got one. Even you, I’m sure.” He exhaled a plume of gray smoke, and looked up at the sky.

 

“You’re right,” Arthur said, and followed the line of Merlin’s throat as he continued to stare up into the night. He really was beautiful, all long lean lines and pale skin. Even his ears, as the light breeze moved a few strands of his hair to kiss their tips. “Me, I seem to like getting tattooed by-“

 

“That’s _not_ a nasty habit.” Merlin cut him off with a sharp glare.

 

“No? Then what is it Merlin? I’ve heard it enough times by now, it’s supposedly very addicting, what with the natural high and all.”

 

“It’s _art_ Arthur.” Merlin was angry now, his tone defensive. “It’s people putting their bodies, their skin in your hands and asking you to turn it into art. For some people, it’s healing. For others, it’s protection, or a celebration, or a mark of pride. They’re trusting you to take what they want to heart and give them something beautiful in return. It’s their lives on their skin. Don’t you dare call it a _nasty habit!_ ” He looked so beautiful in that moment, his eyes bright and colour rising on his cheeks. Passionate, defending what he loved and the people he shared that love with.

 

“Is that what you’re doing then Merlin?” Arthur asked quietly. He knew it was cruel, but he didn’t know if he’d ever get another chance to catch Merlin like this, so fierce yet unguarded at the same time. “Painting our lives on my skin?”

 

Merlin jerked as if he had been stabbed, and took a staggering step away from Arthur. Then he lowered his gaze and shook his head. But Arthur noticed that his hand was shaking as he lifted the cigarette to his lips for another drag.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he murmured, but he still refused to look Arthur in the eyes.

 

“Really?” Arthur asked, taking a step forward. “Because I know what I saw, what I keep seeing every time you work on me, and don’t give me any bollocks about bloody endorphins!”

 

“Everybody’s experience is different,” Merlin snapped, but he was taking another step back. “If you’re seeing things, then maybe you shouldn’t be arguing with me about what _I’m_ smoking during my off hours. Maybe _you_ should lay off whatever it is before it fucks with your brain.”

 

“Bullshite!” Arthur growled, but then he looked at Merlin, at his eyes that were wide with fear and not anger, and suddenly the fight drained out of Arthur. “I know what I’m seeing Merlin, what I’m remembering, and it’s not…It’s not some bad trip or a crazy dream.” He leaned back against the wall, exhausted and frightened, weary and confused. “They’re memories Merlin. Memories of something that happened, and you’re there. In every one of them.” He shook his head and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. “What the fuck is going on?” Merlin was quiet for so long Arthur thought he may have left. But when he lowered his hand, Merlin was still there, his eyes lowered as he bit at his bottom lip.

 

Finally, he said “I don’t know Arthur. But whatever you’re experiencing, whatever you think you’re seeing, that’s on you. I’m just a tattoo artist.”

 

_Bullshite_ , Arthur wanted to say again. And _You’re lying Merlin, don’t you think I can tell by now_. But instead, all he said was “You’re not just a tattoo artist Merlin. You’re the best tattoo artist in all of England. Gwaine says so. And I’ve got the ink on my back to prove he’s right.”

 

Merlin snorted at that, and then leaned back against the wall before he took another drag off his cigarette. “Fucking Gwaine,” he muttered.

 

“I know.” Arthur agreed. “Shite like this is _always_ that fucker’s fault.” Merlin laughed again, and Arthur thought it was the first time he had ever heard Merlin laugh. It was a lovely sound, soft and smooth, and it changed the entire countenance of Merlin’s face, making him seem younger and almost carefree.

 

They stood together in silence for a few more moments, while Merlin smoked and Arthur watched him. It was a strangely peaceful moment, one of the most peaceful of his life, Arthur thought, until Merlin finally finished his cigarette and pushed himself off from the wall.

 

“Did Sefa set up your next appointment?” He asked, tossing the butt away with an expert flick of his fingers. _One a day my arse,_ Arthur thought but didn’t say.

 

Instead he responded with “Yeah, three weeks from now. Same time.”

 

“Right then,” Merlin said with a nod as he dusted the back of his jeans off. “I’ll be working on the body then. Should probably be only one more session after that.”

 

“Right,” Arthur repeated, and watched as Merlin turned toward the other end of the alley.

 

“Good night Arthur, see you in three weeks.” Merlin called quietly as he started to walk away.

 

“Good night Merlin,” Arthur answered. And then he stood there and watched as Merlin disappeared down the alley and into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Fourth Session**

 

Sefa’s hair was orange with black stripes when Arthur arrived for his fourth session. She was busy speaking to a customer at the counter, so she just winked at Arthur and motioned for him to take a seat before turning her attention back to the young woman.

 

“So Gilli’s going to be the one you want to work with, and he doesn’t have anyone scheduled right now, so you lucked out.” Sefa said, waving over one of the artists. He was a slim, young man with soft brown hair, who couldn’t have been that much older than the customer.

 

“Hello,” he said kindly, as he made his way over to Sefa.

 

“Gilli, this is Amelia, and she’s looking for a tattoo. Given what she wants, I think you’re the best artist for her.” Sefa introduced.

 

“Hello Amelia, what are you looking for?” Gilli had a pierced eyebrow, and tattooed wings that Arthur could see curling up his neck above his loose fitting tee shirt.

 

It was then that Amelia reached into her pocket and pulled out a small ring that she held tightly in her fingertips. “It’s my da’s class ring. Well, the symbol of his alma mater. He, well he died two years ago, but he always encouraged me to follow my dreams, and go to uni. I just got the acceptance letter last week. I’m going to the same place, and I thought, well, I thought it’d be a nice tribute.”

 

Gilli carefully took the ring from her outstretched fingers, stared down at it and then smiled at her.

 

“That’s lovely,” he said, and the look he gave Amelia was gentle and kind. “I can definitely do that for you. Let’s step behind the counter and you can tell me a bit more about what you want.” Arthur watched as Amelia followed Gilli, less timid than she had been just a moment before, and smiled.

 

“He’s really good with the nervous ones,” Sefa said, following Arthur’s gaze. “And he’s a damned fine artist too.”

 

“Aren’t they all?” Arthur indicated the rest of the shop with a nod of his head.

 

“Oh absolutely,” Sefa agreed. “But Merlin and Will spend a long time making sure someone’s going to be a good fit before they offer them a chair.”

 

“Good fit?” Arthur was suddenly curious.

 

“Yeah,” Sefa went on. “The talent, that’s crucial. Although they will take someone less experienced on to help them grow. But they want artists who are good with people, and know how to do the work without complaint. They encourage everyone here to be proud of their work, but they don’t put up with any ego bullshite.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, really.” Sefa said, glancing one last time at Gilli and Amelia. “We had an artist here last year. His name was Cedric. Good artist, but a complete and utter arsehole. Didn’t want to do the work, was sloppy with his station, and tried to bully the customers into getting what he wanted to give them, not what they wanted. Didn’t last long. Merlin and Will got rid of him, and then found Gilli. Gilli was a bit shy at first, but he’s great to work with, and well, as you can see, he’s good with the customers. Never had a single complaint.”

 

“Amelia seems to like him,” Arthur said, observing her as she now talked freely and energetically, Arthur assumed, about her father.

 

“He’ll do right by her,” Sefa agreed. “Now as for you love, I’ve got you checked in, so head on upstairs. Merlin’s waiting for you.”

 

***

 

Merlin was in the middle of scarfing down a custard cream and slurping from a can of soda as he leaned over a customer while Will was explaining the required aftercare.

 

“Really _Mer_ lin?” Arthur said, as he arched an eyebrow at the can in Merlin’s hand. “You gave me a whole lecture about protein my first session and _this_ is what you’re eating?”

 

“I’ll have you know, my body is a temple-Shut it Will!” Merlin said at Will’s snort, stepping away from the station and gesturing for Arthur to follow him.

 

“Don’t know where the fucker puts it all.” Will grumbled. “Lucky bastard.”

 

Arthur tuned him out and the went over to Merlin’s work area as he wiped his hands down with a paper towel (just how many paper towels were in this place, Arthur wondered), before pumping  two spurts of sanitizer on his hands.

 

“So, any problems with the ink since the last time you were here?” Merlin asked, as he spread a  sheet of disposable paper over the massage table. He was wearing a purple bandana this time, and black converse.

 

“No,” Arthur said. “Just the usual itching.” (Poor George really was starting to look at Arthur funny in the mornings.)

 

“Good, good,” Merlin said, scanning over the contents of his station. “Right then. Like I said last time, I’ll be working on the rest of the body today. Should take a few hours. Take of your top, and lie facedown on the table. Let me just wash my hands, get some more ink, and we’ll get started.”

 

Arthur watched him go as he pulled off his tee shirt, enjoying the cool kiss of air from the shop on his flesh. It really was starting to get hot outside, and it felt good to bare his skin. But as Arthur continued to stare, vaguely paying attention to Will and his customer chatting in the background, he realised that never once, during their entire exchange, had Merlin looked him in the eye.

 

***

_It is a beautiful day as Arthur stands on the dais and stares out at his gathered court. The sky is blue, and the sunlight is a stream of silver and gold through the windows of the throne room as he waits. It is a day he, and his people, have been hoping for for a long time. And it is finally here._

_Gwen is slowly making her way toward him, resplendent in her lilac gown. She moves down the center aisle with a grace that not even the highest noblewoman could achieve, and Arthur is so very proud of her._

_For Gwen is strong and beautiful, tempered where he is flame, even where he roars, and calm where he is passionate. She will balance his heart and soothe his edges. And Arthur loves her so. She knows Camelot, knows its people and its heartbeat as well as her own. She is friend. She is  ally. She is confidante. And she will make a great Queen._

_As she kneels before him, her head bowed in respect, but not surrender, never surrender, Arthur speaks the sacred vows, the vows that will take her from servant to ruler. And then the crown is in his hands, and he is lowering it slowly, the gold in his fingers no match for the lovely curls that already circle her head. She looks up at him then, a quick glance of her eyes, and for just an instant, a small fleeting instant, quicker than a heartbeat, Arthur falters._

_For he loves her, he truly does, with all of his heart. But for just that instant, that one, single damned instant, Arthur’s heart tells him that it is the wrong face, the wrong crown of dark hair, the wrong beloved he is looking upon._

_It is gone just as quickly, just as suddenly as it came, and then Arthur is placing the crown upon Gwen’s brow and holding out his hands. She takes them with a smile and slowly rises to her feet, no longer Gwen the blacksmith’s daughter, but Queen Guinevere of Camelot._

_“Long live the Queen!” Arthur calls out, turning her to face what is now_ their _people._

_“Long live the Queen!” Their voices respond in unison. They take up the call and repeat it again and again, in joy, in celebration, in acceptance._

_Arthur stands besides his Queen then, staring out at them all in happiness, in pride. But even as he does so, his eyes are searching, searching, searching, for that one face in the crowd._

_“Long live the Queen!”_

_And there, there he is, Merlin, looking upon them both with a gaze that is steadfast and true. But there is something there, something quiet and soft in his both his voice and his stare, and Arthur knows._

_Merlin felt it too._

(Oh Merlin, Arthur thought. Oh Merlin, Merlin, Merlin.)

_They will forget it in the next moment, the next day, the rest of their lives. But for that one single, sacred moment, they both felt its loss. And they both mourned._

_“Long live the Queen!”_

 

***

 

The buzz of the tattoo gun slowly stopped, not with a sudden jerk or burst of silence, but with a quiet subdued sigh, like the last note of a child’s cry. Arthur opened his eyes, almost expecting the burn of bright sunlight and gilded pews, but found a hardwood floor and the top of a black converse meeting his gaze instead.

 

Merlin was motionless beside him, and when Arthur lifted and turned his head, he found Merlin’s face lowered and his eyes shut. Behind them, he would have sworn he saw some flicker, a flash of gold, that he was slowly starting to remember. Something that he knew was the beginning and end of it all.

 

Merlin swallowed, shook his head, as if he had to force himself away, and then slowly pushed his rolling chair back from the table.

 

“How was that then? Are you all right?” Merlin asked, and his voice was flat and heavy, more tired than Arthur had ever heard it.

 

“Yeah. Yeah.” Arthur paused then, searching for the right words, the right _time_ to find himself in. “It was the same as last time. The same as all the other times.”

 

“The same as all the other times,” Merlin muttered with a dry laugh and another shake of his head. And then he took a deep breath, as if shedding himself of some heavy weight, and straightened. “Right, let me help you sit up and we’ll get some of this in you then, and you can go take a look.” As Arthur rolled to his side and then sat up, Merlin reached beneath the table to hand him his sports drink. While Arthur drank from it greedily, he slowly looked around and let the current world come back to him. Will was there, chatting lowly with a customer of his own while he worked, and there was something deep and smooth playing over the studio’s sound system. Arthur twisted and shifted his back, feeling his spine pop and snap into place, and  groaned in relief.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Merlin said with a quiet but empty laugh as he dabbed at Arthur’s skin. “Feels good to move right?” Arthur nodded and gulped more of his drink. “Go on then. If you’re ready, you can take a look.”

 

Arthur slowly rose, and made his way over to the mirror. He took one last greedy swallow, before he lowered the bottle and turned around.

 

And there, on his back, was finally the dragon. Its body flowed and rippled up the length of his spine, waves of red overlaid with shimmering gold that whispered of the wind and the sun and night skies as it pulsed up into his wings. It spread out from the center in a sinuous curve to cover about a third of each side of his back, with scales that lifted and shifted with each breath he took. There was a ridge of darker red and golden spines that trailed the protuberances of his vertebrae, that arched and expanded with his every inhale and exhale, and Arthur swore he could now feel the dragon’s heartbeat curling around his own. The only thing missing was its tail, and he could see the first outline of where that would go, curling to the left where it would circle just above his hip.

 

“Oh,” He whispered, shocked, breathless and so so pleased. “Oh god Merlin. It’s _gorgeous_.”

 

“Good?” Merlin asked, from where he was kneeling by Arthur’s side, turning his head this way and that, dabbing again here and there.

 

“Oh it’s more than good Merlin.” Arthur couldn’t help his smile. “It’s bloody brilliant!”

 

Merlin grinned at that, and rose from his crouch. “Anyway, we’ve got most of the body done today. As you can see, pretty much all that’s left is the tail. You’ve been healing really well, so I’m guessing you’ve been having help with the aftercare. So really, we’ll only need one more session to finish it, and then you’ll be done.”

 

“No,” Arthur said, with a shake of his head.

 

“No?” Merlin asked, as he went back over to his station to grab his spray bottle.

 

“No,” Arthur said, following him. “There’s been no help. None at all.”

 

“What? Your wife hasn’t been helping you take care of it?” Merlin asked, as he began to shake the fluid until it started to froth.

 

“There’s no wife Merlin.” Arthur said.

 

“Girlfriend?”

 

“No Merlin,” Arthur said again, shaking his head. “There’s no wife. No girlfriend.”

 

“Oh dear god,” Arthur heard Will mutter from his table.

 

“What?” Merlin asked, and he seemed shocked.

 

“There’s no girlfriend. And there’s no wife.” Arthur said, taking another step forward. “I’m _gay,_ Merlin.”

 

“What? No. You can’t be.” Merlin took a step backward, edging into his station. “I didn’t know. I would have known that. I would have.” His words were a shaking, confused whisper.  

 

“Oh dear god,” a different male voice grumbled this time, from somewhere by Will’s station.

 

“Do you got a problem with that mate?” Will’s tone was suddenly cutting and very very sharp.

 

“No, no, no problem at all.” The voice said. “You can ask my sister if you don’t believe me.” The buzz of Will’s tattoo gun started up again, and Arthur lost the thread of their conversation, turning back to Merlin.

 

“I can promise you _Mer_ lin, that it’s the truth.” Arthur said, stepping forward. He felt brave suddenly, and fierce, like the dragon now living on his back. “It’s actually part of the reason I wanted the tattoo.” But then suddenly he remembered Gwen, and his shoulders slumped. “There was someone actually. And we were engaged to be married.” He stopped and swallowed, because even though it was years later, this still hurt. “But as lovely as she was, and Gwen was – is lovely…” Arthur heard Merlin’s whispered “ _Gwen_ ” before he went on, “I didn’t love her like I should, and I realised that she wasn’t what I wanted, what I really needed, so…So, I broke our  engagement, and came out.” He looked back at Merlin, who was clinging to the spray bottle so tightly Arthur could see that his knuckles were white, even through the latex gloves. “I told you at the start of this that it’d been a rough couple of years for me. That was a big part of it.” Arthur straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. “But it was worth it. Every single bit of it worth it. And I don’t regret a single thing. Well, except for hurting Gwen. She didn’t deserve to be hurt like that. But otherwise, I don’t regret a single damned thing.” He took one last step forward, bringing him within an arm’s reach of Merlin, who was clutching his spray bottle and shaking his head with wide, shocked, blue eyes.

 

“So with that said _Mer_ lin,” And Arthur could feel the smile on his lips spreading like a slow, warm flame. “Will you let me take you out to dinner after you’re done wrapping me up?”

 

And from the other side of the studio, two voices then said “Oh dear god.”

 

***

 

But Merlin wouldn’t let Arthur take him out to dinner. Not that night, nor the next, or any of the following nights.

 

“It wouldn’t be professional Arthur,” Merlin said as he rushed through cleaning and bandaging Arthur’s back. “I don’t date any of my clients.”

 

From his station, Will released a cough that sounded suspiciously like “ _Bullshite!_ ” But Merlin ignored him as he tore more and more pieces of adhesives to secure the sterile pads to Arthur’s spine.

  
“Client?” Arthur muttered, and then he turned around and grabbed Merlin’s wrist. “Really Merlin? Client? We both know…” And here he faltered and swallowed, because this was their truth, and it was so much more important than anything else. “We both know that it’s so much more than that.” His voice was a whisper when he added, “That _we’re_ so much more than that.”

 

Merlin cut his gaze to Arthur’s hand on his wrist, and there was something in his eyes, something dark and dangerous. And Arthur knew that Merlin would not be played with, or teased, or anything else right now, and he let his hand fall away.

 

“I don’t know who, or what the _bloody hell_ you think you are, but right now, we’re finished here.” Merlin hissed through gritted teeth. “You can go downstairs and Sefa will take care of everything else.” And with that, Merlin rose, turned and started to walk away.

 

“Merlin! Merlin wait!” Arthur called after him.

 

“She’ll set up your next appointment. I’m pretty booked up for the next few weeks, but she should be able to find something eventually.” And then he was gone, and Arthur was pretty sure he was heading outside to smoke.

 

“Merlin!” Arthur called again, and went to follow him, but Will’s voice brought him up short.

 

“Leave it mate.” There was something heavy and serious in his tone. Arthur turned to face him to find Will staring at him with eyes dark and intent. “There’s no talking to him when he gets like this, yeah? He just needs to calm down a bit. He gets like that after a session sometimes. Just leave it.”

 

“But-“ Arthur was so confused. So lost and hurt and he needed Merlin, because Merlin…Merlin could fix it. Merlin always had.

 

Will was just shaking his head, and then he turned away and dipped the tip of his gun into another cup of ink. “Just go see Sefa. She’ll set you to rights, and then you can go home.”

 

***

 

But she didn’t. And she couldn’t. As Arthur left _Excalibur Ink_ , he found that it was with his back burning and his heart hurting. He was so very confused and uncertain, and he needed someone to help him make sense of everything that had just happened. Everything that was still happening. As he walked along the street, he looked down the alleyway, hoping to see the orange glow of cigarette burning. Or a pale face, highlighted by the moon.

 

But there was nothing there. Only an empty street, and a dark alley, and a gray silent fog that gave him no answers.

 

“ _Fucking Gwaine_ ,” he cursed, because he could. “This is all his fucking fault.”


	6. Chapter 6

**INTERMISSION I – Peeling**

The pub was crowded that Friday night as Arthur made his way inside. Between work and then his sessions with Merlin, it had been a while since Arthur had been able to make it to one of their usual get togethers. He saw Lance, Leon and Elyan at work everyday, so he knew he hadn’t missed anything vital, but still, as he walked through the crowd to their usual table, he was glad to be there. With all that had been going on in his life, he needed something normal, something familiar to ground him, and a night at the pub with his mates was a welcome relief.

 

And they were all there, laughing and chatting and carrying on as if nothing had changed. Including Gwen, Arthur was surprised to see. That didn’t occur very often anymore, not since they had broken up, and Arthur had always felt a bit guilty about that. But here she was, sitting next to Lance, and something about that struck Arthur as strange, as well as her bright smile and the warm blush that spread across her cheeks.

 

“Well, well, well,” Morgana called when she saw him. “Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence.” Arthur hesitated for a second, staring at his half sister as something in his heart told him _be wary, be careful, it’s her_. He had been remembering more and more since his last session with Merlin, and he knew that they had once spent their lives trying to destroy each other, even when there had been so much love in the beginning. But she was his sister in this life, and he loved her, even if he did not know how just yet to reconcile the two. 

 

But the others were calling out their greetings, and that helped Arthur to shake off his dread as he made his way toward his friends. They were all there, Leon and Elyan and Elena. Gwaine was there, and he had his arm around Percy, who looked bemused but not uncomfortable. Little pieces of them, memories and flickers, flashed quickly in his mind’s eye, and he felt strangely safe, as if this was a part of himself that he had lost, as if something else in him had finally started to make sense.

 

The past few weeks hadn’t been easy. Work had been busy, as he and his team had pushed themselves hard to obtain two new clients, while maintaining the level of service their current clients were used to. He was going to have to expand and hire more staff, but that was something else he had not been able to find the time for. Something he kept pushing off for another day.

 

And then, there were the dreams. They were no longer faceless, and they no longer faded when he opened his eyes. He dreamt of battles, and blood. Strategy sessions and peace treaties. Of negotiating with other kings and queens. Of hunts and long days sparring with his trusted knights. And of war. Always, always war.

 

And in all of his dreams, the one steady constant was Merlin. Merlin by his side. Merlin tending his wounds. Merlin, and his never ending faith that had helped Arthur to carry forward. Merlin, Merlin, Merlin. Always Merlin.

 

There were days when Arthur woke, and was certain he was going mad. Because what else could it be but madness, to dream you were a king and that all of your current friends had each been valued members of your court.

 

So he was glad to be here. Glad to put all of that aside, to drink and gossip and talk about the latest rugby scores with the people he loved in _this_ life, and not the other one.

 

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Arthur finally answered as he loosened his tie and sat down next to Leon. “Things have been a bit crazed, that’s all. What have I missed?” Leon passed a pint over to him, and Arthur took a long, grateful swallow.

 

“Quite a lot actually.” Morgana said, and there was something in the air that made Arthur lower his glass and turn to look at the table around him.

 

“What?” Arthur asked, taking in the sudden quiet from everyone.

 

“Well Arthur,” Morgana said, leaning forward over the table. “Gwen has an announcement to make. Actually, both Gwen and Lance.” Arthur swallowed, and had a feeling that he already knew.

 

“Well what is it?” He asked, turning to face Gwen. Gwen, who was blushing, and had lowered her gaze. Gwen, who Arthur remembered in both of his lives as being the sweetest and gentlest person Arthur had ever known.

 

“Um,” She began, biting her lip. “Well actually Arthur, we’re here tonight because, well, Lance and I…We just got engaged.” And then Gwen lifted up her left hand to reveal the beautiful engagement ring on her finger.

 

“Oh.” Arthur blinked, and then blinked again. “Oh! Well, congratulations.”

 

“Yes, congratulations indeed.” Morgana said, and there was something cruel and almost vicious in her voice. “Unlike some people, Lance here knows how to appreciate a good thing.” Arthur knew then that she would never forgive him for breaking Gwen’s heart. She could never forgive someone for ruining her plans, whatever those plans may have been, and she had been planning Gwen and Arthur’s wedding since she first introduced them in uni.

 

“Of course he does,” Arthur said quickly. “I’m just…I’m surprised, that’s all. I had no idea.”

 

“We didn’t mean to keep it a secret,” Gwen began. “It’s just that, well, after everything, we just thought it best if we kept it quiet for a bit, that’s all.” She was rambling. She had always rambled when she was nervous or uncomfortable, Arthur remembered. And then he realised she would probably never ramble like that at him again.

 

“How long?” Arthur asked, and he was honestly curious. This was another secret, something else that had been vital and important in his friends’ lives, and he hadn’t known. He thought that was probably what hurt the most.

 

“Six months since we started seeing each other,” Lance said, speaking for the first time. “I asked Gwen to marry me a week ago.”

 

“We didn’t mean to keep it a secret,” Gwen said again. “It’s just that, with how busy it’s been at _Camelot_ -“ Arthur found himself snorting inwardly at the name. Of course, _of fucking course_ he would have called his new company _Camelot Consulting_. “And-and everything else, we didn’t want to do anything to make things uncomfortable. That’s all.”

 

“Ah, you’re daft, the both of you. Congratulations! I’m so happy for you both.” And Arthur meant it, he really really did. Gwen was smiling at him, and it was a bit shy and a bit shaky, but both Lance and Elyan just seemed relieved.

 

“It’s going to be a beautiful wedding,” Morgana said. “Gwen is going to be a beautiful bride.”

 

“Oh leave off Morgana.” Gwaine’s voice cut over the table, quick like a strike, sharp like the blade of a sword. “Arthur’s already said he’s happy for them. In fact, he’s so happy for them, he’s going to get the next shout.” Gwaine turned to him then, and gave him a wink. “Isn’t that right, _Princess_?”

 

And Arthur’s blood froze.

 

***

 

A couple of hours later, after the rounds had been bought, the congratulations given, and everyone else had gone home, Arthur again found Gwaine in the back garden of the pub. It was a warm, muggy night, and the area was surprisingly empty. Except for Gwaine, who was sitting there quietly, sipping at one last beer. Arthur stared at him, a hundred puzzle pieces all suddenly clicking into place, because Gwaine had called him _princess_ , and he had never, ever, done that before.

 

At least, not in this lifetime.

 

“Gwaine.” Arthur said, and took a step forward. “Gwaine.”

 

Gwaine turned towards him, and there was something heavy and knowing in his eyes. He  watched Arthur for a long, still moment, before he quietly rose, his focus never wavering, and then slowly bowed his head.

 

“Hello your Majesty.” Gwaine said.

 

“ _Gwaine,_ ” Arthur gasped. And then he fell forward, sobbing, into Gwaine’s open arms.

 

***

 

“How long have you known?” Arthur asked later that night, as they sat on the floor of the main room in Gwaine’s tiny flat, more open bottles of beer between them.

 

“I started having the dreams after the first session with Merlin. Thought I was going starkers at first, to tell the truth.” Gwaine said.

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Arthur asked, picking at the label on the bottle in his hand.

 

“And how well would that have gone over?” Gwaine snorted. “Listen mates, I’ve been having dreams where I’m a knight of the round table, and that bloke over there is bloody King Arthur. Except I don’t think they’re dreams, I think they’re memories, and it all started when I went to get a tattoo. Yeah, that would have gone over real well with you all.” It was Arthur’s turn to snort in agreement. “It didn’t really make sense until the last session. When he finished it. And then, then it was like everything fell into place.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“So is yours done then?” Gwaine asked. “Did he finish it?”

 

“No, not yet. There’s one more session to go.” Arthur said, and took another sip of beer. They were silent for a while, sitting in the dim light, each quiet with their own thoughts.

 

“And it’s really him, isn’t it?” Gwaine finally asked.  “It’s our Merlin?”

 

“Yeah, it’s really him.” Arthur answered. “I’d recognize those ears anywhere.” That caused Gwaine to laugh, and then the two of them were snickering like children getting away with something forbidden.

 

“Do you think he knows?” Gwaine asked, and Arthur thought that was the question, wasn’t it?

 

“I don’t know. I think so, but, well, if he does, he doesn’t seem to want to admit it.” Arthur lowered his bottle. “How was he when he worked on you?”

 

“He was fine, at first. Friendly like he always was.” Gwaine said. “But at the end of each session, he was always quiet. And he would look at me funny, like he hadn’t just spent the past four hours digging into my skin.”

 

“That shite hurts.” Arthur grumbled.

 

“Tell me about it,” Gwaine agreed. “But it’s not the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. Not by far.”

 

“No? What was?”

 

Gwaine was so still and silent for a moment, and Arthur dreaded his answer.

 

“When I died. The last time.”

 

Arthur’s throat was suddenly dry and his skin felt too tight. But he turned and met Gwaine’s gaze as steadily as he could.

 

“What – what happened to you? I don’t know. I don’t think I ever knew.”

 

“Morgana.” Gwaine said quietly. And Arthur’s heart broke. “She poisoned and tortured me for hours trying to find out where you were. In the end, the poison killed me.”

 

“Oh god, Gwaine.” Arthur reached for his hand, holding it tightly in his own. “I’m so sorry.” A million things began to make sense. The shift in Gwaine’s attitude, and the way he had been avoiding any of their gatherings that Morgana usually attended.

 

“It wasn’t so bad.” At Arthur’s snort, Gwaine shook his head and then went on. “Okay, yeah, it was pretty bad. But I didn’t die alone at least. Percy was there with me at the end.” And a million more things began to make sense to Arthur as well. “And no offense mate, because I know she’s your sister and all, but if I never have to see her again, it will be too soon.”

 

“Oh god no, no, of course not Gwaine.” And then Arthur did the only thing he could. He pulled Gwaine towards him, wrapped him in his arms, and held him tightly. “I am so glad you are here, Sir Gwaine, bravest of all of my knights.” Gwaine clung to Arthur just as tightly, the both of them trembling in the late night dark. When they stilled, when the moment had passed, Arthur kissed Gwaine’s forehead and leaned back.

 

“So, you and Percy then?” He asked, picking up his beer bottle.

 

“Nah,” Gwaine responded with a shake of his head as he did the same. “Not then at least. It wasn’t…It wasn’t allowed back then, was it?”

 

“No, I supposed it wasn’t.” Arthur thought of it, and how he was so glad that at least that had changed. “But now?”

 

“Now?” Gwaine said. “Now, I’d like it to be. No offense Arthur, you were my king, but Percy, Percy was my closest friend.” He paused and thought about it for a moment. “Well, Percy and Merlin, but Merlin’s always been yours.” That caused Arthur to spit out his beer.

 

“ _What?_ ” He gasped.

 

“What?” Gwaine countered.

 

“Are you serious?”

 

“Are you?”

 

“I was married Gwaine. To Gwen!” And holy fuck, Arthur thought, how weird was that.

 

“Yeah well, but that was then and this is now.” Gwaine answered. “Things are different now.”

 

That gave Arthur pause. “I suppose you’re right. Things are very different now.”

 

“Besides, we all thought you two were doing it back then.”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

“Oh come off it Arthur!” Gwaine said. “We could all see it! The way the two of you were with each other all the time. You let him get away with things you let no one else. And neither one of you ever seemed happy unless the other was in the room. The way the two of you used to look at each other when you thought no one was watching. It was like…”

 

“It was like what?” Arthur asked.

 

“It was like each of you made the other complete. Like you were each other’s destiny.”

 

Arthur said nothing, because truly, there was nothing he could say.

 

 “Yeah well,” Arthur finally said. “Destiny or not, it doesn’t seem like he wants anything to do with me this time around.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“Because I asked him to dinner, and he turned me down.”

 

“You asked him?” Gwaine cackled. “Oh my god, you dog.”

 

“He told me no Gwaine.” Arthur said. “Flat out refused.” Gwaine studied him again, silent and steady, before he nodded his head.

 

“I guess that makes sense then.” Gwaine finally said.

 

“What? Why?” Arthur asked.

 

“Because I think out of all of us, he probably lost the most.” Gwaine answered. “I wouldn’t want to go back to any of that again if I didn’t have to either.”

 

“Huh,” Arthur said. And he had to agree. That did make a terrible, horrible sense.

 

“So what are you going to do then?”

 

“I’m going to go back, and get the final part of my tattoo done. I think we have to finish it, finish this.” Arthur knew how the stories, the legends all ended, and in none of them did the King Arthur of legend survive. “And then...Then I’m going to kiss that idiot stupid.”

 

Gwaine laughed at that, so hard he fell over.

 

“Oh, this is going to be good.” Gwaine snickered. “I can’t wait until he does his golden eye thing and blasts you across the room.”

 

“ _You knew about that too?_ ” Arthur was too stunned to do anything but stare.

 

“I think you were the only who didn’t, back then.” Gwaine was still giggling, as if Arthur’s surprise was the funniest thing in the world. “I told you, the rest of us knew how to pay attention.”

 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Arthur muttered.

 

“Oh my god!” Gwaine was laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes. “This is going to be so much fun!”

 

 _Fucking Gwaine_ , Arthur thought, and then he kicked the bastard in the shin.


	7. Chapter 7

**INTERMISSION II – New Skin**

Two days later, Arthur went to see Gwen.

 

Stepping through the opaque glass door of her flower shop, called simply _Petals_ , Arthur was glad to see that it was as busy and welcoming as he remembered. There had been a time, not that long ago, when Arthur used to come here several times a week, to meet Gwen for lunch or take her out for dinner at the end of the day. It was still a warm and cheerful place, and in the air was the wonderfully familiar scent of blooming flowers. Arthur had always thought it suited Gwen, with her love of colours and growing things. She would smell of roses and orchids, mist and soil, and even now those scents would make Arthur smile. He was happy her oasis was still here, a place for her to be as vibrant and bright as she was, as she always had been, in both of her lives.

 

“Can I help you?” A salesclerk asked, approaching Arthur. He didn’t recognize her, so she must have been new. Anyone else would have probably remembered him, if perhaps not all that fondly in the end.

 

“Yes, I’m here to see Gwen. Is she around?”

 

“Arthur?” Arthur turned towards Gwen’s voice, to find her approaching him from one of the refrigerator cases in the back. She looked as lovely as she always did, in a pale blue summer dress and matching sandals. _Her hair used to be longer_ , Arthur thought as she made her way to him. _It used to hang down her past her shoulders, and I used to love to run my fingers through it, back…back then._ “What are you doing here?”

 

“I thought I’d stop by for a visit,” Arthur said, and then paused. “If that’s still all right?”

 

“Of course it is.” She smiled and stepped forward to gently kiss his cheek. “You’re always welcome here. I’ve told you that.”

 

“I know, but that was before, well, everything.” He said, feeling the first few tendrils of hope slowly start to grow since the past few days. Of course they would come to bloom in Gwen’s presence. She had always had that effect on everyone and everything around her.

 

“Silly man,” she teased, and it felt good, _so good_ to hear that tone in her voice again. She stepped back and smiled at him. “Is there something you need?”

 

“Actually,” Arthur said. “I was wondering if I could take you out for a coffee?”

 

***

 

“How’s the business doing?” Arthur asked a bit later, as they slowly walked down the streets of SoHo near Gwen’s shop, warm cups of coffee in their hands.

 

“Really well, yeah.” Gwen said, taking a sip of her caramel macchiato. Arthur used to tease her relentlessly for her love of all things sweet. “I’ve had to hire additional staff. Becca, who you met back in the shop, is one of three new employees. And I’m actually thinking of expanding. I owe you and Morgana thanks for that, by the way. The word of mouth has been phenomenal.” Morgana had always used Gwen’s store for the centerpieces whenever there was an event at _Pendragons_ , and even after everything that had and hadn’t happened between them, Arthur had never stopped using her services as well.

 

“Good, good, I’m glad. You deserve it.” Arthur said, as he sipped at his black coffee. They walked quietly together for a few more moments, enjoying the early afternoon sunlight as the city’s denizens streamed by.

 

“So why are you really here Arthur?” Gwen finally asked, turning to face him. _Smart Gwen_ , Arthur thought. She had always been perceptive. “Is this…Is this about Lance and me?”

 

“No,” Arthur said with a shake of his head. Then he thought about it for a second, and amended “Well, yes actually.”  She raised an eyebrow and stared at him, as calm and implacable as she had always been while she waited for him to go on.

 

“It’s just…I wanted to know…Are you happy now Gwen?” And that was the crux of it for Arthur. For all that they could walk so easily together now, it hadn’t always been the case. There had been a lot of tears and a lot of hurt between them in the end. As Arthur had told Merlin a few weeks ago, it was the only thing he had regretted about everything that had happened. Gwen hadn’t deserved any of it, and Arthur _needed_ to know that she was happy.

 

“ _Oh Arthur,_ ” Gwen said gently. “Are you still worried about that?”

 

“Of course I am!” Arthur struggled to keep his voice low. “I hurt you Gwen, and I never meant to do that.” Gwen stared at him for a few more seconds, before she shook her head and slowly began to walk again.

 

“You need to stop listening to Morgana.” She said. “I know you didn’t Arthur, or, well, at least I know now. And I know it wasn’t easy for you.” The corner of her lip turned upward slightly, and Arthur knew that Gwen was chewing the inside of her cheek, a habit she had that meant she was thinking carefully about her words. “The thing is, yes, you did hurt me, very badly.”

 

“Gwen-”

 

“But,” she lifted her hand to cut him off. “I realised after we had some time apart, was that for all that you did, I know that you were hurting just as much, if not more. I know it wasn’t easy for you Arthur. Not with all of the expectations Uther demanded of you. Or with any of the expectations you demanded of yourself.” She shook her head, and then smiled at him. It was a smile that was both warm and sad at the same time. “What upsets me the most about it now is that you thought you had to go through all of that alone. That you didn’t confide in me. You didn’t have to date me, or ask me to marry you. We could have been friends Arthur.” She paused and met his gaze. And in that moment she was very much Gwen, and very much Queen Guinevere of Camelot.

 

“The thing is Arthur, I would still like us to be friends. Very much so.”

 

Arthur swallowed and nodded. “Of course Gwen. Of course.”

 

“Good,” she said, and then looped her arm through his as they continued their walk down the street. “Now as to your original question, the answer is yes. I am happy right now. Lance makes me very very happy.”

 

“He’s a great bloke.” Arthur said, as something in his heart finally lifted. Gwen _hmmed_ and smiled at him. “And Morgana is right. You are going to make a _beautiful_ bride. I always knew you would.” She laughed at that, and the thing in Arthur’s heart that had lifted now took off and started to fly free.

 

“You are coming to the wedding right?” She asked, tightening her hold on his arm.

 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

 

She laughed again, but then her steps slowed and she turned to look at him. “And what about you Arthur? Are you finally happy now?” Arthur took a sip of his coffee as he pondered her question. He found himself thinking of _Camelot Consulting_ , and the work they were doing to make big business smarter and improve working conditions around the world. He thought of his friends, even dearer to him now than they had ever been. And he thought of blue eyes and colourful banandas, bright inks on his skin and a painted skyscape that overlooked the city of London. And Merlin. Always, always Merlin.

 

“I think so,” he finally said. “Or at least I think I’m getting there.”

 

“Good,” she said. “Good. Because I really would love it if brought a date with you to the wedding.”

 

***

 

They walked for a little while more, talking of this and that, laughing together like they hadn’t in years. Gwen told him of some of the crazy arrangement requests she had for weddings, and Arthur told her about some of the new initiatives they were formulating for _Camelot Consulting’s_ more progressive clients. They talked of movies they had both seen, music they were each listening to, and Gwen’s plans for her own ceremony. It was just like old times, except it was easier than it ever had been before, because there were no more lies between them, no more broken promises.

 

They stopped a few blocks away from _Petals_ , so that Gwen could buy a sandwich for lunch. As Arthur waited for her outside, he looked down the street and saw a small cart that was selling cheap but brightly coloured bundles of flowers. Arthur used to buy her flowers like that all the time, and Gwen would always be delighted to receive them. When he asked her why, she had told him “ _I work in a flower shop because I love flowers Arthur, but no one ever buys them for a florist._ ”

 

When Gwen stepped outside, Arthur handed her a yellow sunflower. As Gwen laughed and laughed and then twisted the flower in her curls, Arthur hoped that Lance would always buy her flowers for her hair. Somehow, he was certain that Lance would.

 

As they finally stopped to part ways in front of _Petals_ , Gwen took him in her arms and hugged him tightly.

 

“Don’t be a stranger anymore, yeah?” She asked, when she finally stepped away. Arthur took one long, careful look at her, before he nodded. And then he gently took her shoulders in his hands, and laid a soft, last kiss to her forehead.

 

“Be happy Gwen,” he whispered. And his words were both a wish and a prayer. Then Arthur stepped away, turned around and finally, _finally_ let her go.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Fifth Session**

 

Six weeks later, Arthur was back at _Excalibur Ink_ for the final session of his tattoo. It had not been easy getting it scheduled this time around. There had, in fact, been three cancellations since his last appointment, and Arthur was frustrated beyond belief.

 

_“I’m so sorry Arthur,” Sefa had apologized when she called to tell him that Merlin would not be available the next day for their scheduled inking. “He’s not normally like this with his clients. He’s usually pretty stringent about keeping his appointments. I don’t know what’s going on with him.”_

_Arthur had sighed into his mobile, and run a tired hand over his forehead. But then he remembered who he had been, and who he was now, and began to strategize._

_“The thing is Sefa, it’s the last session. And it’s such a beautiful piece, I can’t wait to show it off. But not until it’s finished, yeah?” His voice had been smooth, confident, but with just a slight bit of yearning, a plea for understanding._

_“I know, I know,” Sefa had muttered, and in the background Arthur could hear the now familiar buzz of the tattoo guns as the artists worked._

_“Dinner for you and everyone else at Excalibur Ink if you can get me in.” Arthur had offered._

_Sefa had made a clicking noise with her teeth and then said “Let me see what I can do,” before she hung up._

 

Two days ago, she had called Arthur and said “He’s just had a cancellation for this Saturday night at seven. I know it’s a bit later and not your usual Friday night, but can you make it?”

 

“Sefa, you’re a star. I’ll take it.” Arthur had said.

 

So now, as Arthur approached the counter, he held up a bouquet of dark purple orchids from _Petals_ to Sefa, and then couldn’t help his chuckle when he saw the colour matched her hair, which was done up in a retro beehive today. She was smiling and laughing as well as she took the flowers from his hands.

 

“Oh aren’t you a love?” She said, as she settled them on her desk.

 

“You deserve them for keeping this lot in check.” He told her.

 

“Ain’t that the truth,” she said, taking a sniff of the flowers before she looked at him. “Okay, so, the thing is, Merlin knows he has an inking now, but he, um, well, he just doesn’t know it’s you. So don’t be shocked if he’s a bit surprised, okay?”

 

“Thank you Sefa, really.” Arthur said as he made his way towards the door behind the counter.

 

“You can thank me later if he doesn’t fire me for this.”

 

“If he does, he’s a fool.” Arthur told her. “And if he does, you can come work for me.”

 

“Ta, mate.” Sefa said as she reached below the counter for the buzzer. “Oh, and Arthur?”

 

“Yes?” Arthur looked over his shoulder at her.

 

“Will’s gone to pick up curry for our dinner. Shall I just call ahead and give them your card number?”

 

“You do that Sefa. Add drinks to the order too.” Arthur told her with a smile.

 

“Cheers!” She said, and then buzzed him through.

 

***

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Merlin was certainly not happy to see Arthur that night.

 

“What do you think Merlin? I’m here for my last session.” Arthur said as he stepped into the studio.

 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Merlin had crossed his arms and was glaring at Arthur. “I was supposed to be working on someone else.”

 

“Apparently you had a cancellation.” Arthur said, making his way toward Merlin, crossing his own arms as he went. “And since you’ve cancelled on me _three bloody times_ already, and Sefa knew how desperate I was to get the tattoo finished, she slotted me in instead.” Arthur was angry, furious actually. How dare Merlin think that he could just brush Arthur off like this. As if Arthur would just let him get away with it. As if Arthur ever had.

 

That thought gave Arthur pause, because even if he knew what he was remembering, if what he and Gwaine had talked about was true, maybe Merlin didn’t. And then Arthur thought back to that conversation, and Gwaine’s words, and amended that maybe Merlin didn’t want to.

 

Looking at Merlin, Arthur thought that might have been the truth. For all of his glaring, there was something in Merlin’s eyes, something small and desperately frightened, that Arthur wanted to reach out, take into his hands and keep safe. But he couldn’t, he knew, not yet. Not until the tattoo was done.

 

“I’m here, you’ve got the time on your schedule, and you said it yourself. There’s just this one last session left.” Arthur told him. “You have to finish it Merlin.”

 

“I don’t have to do anything!” Merlin snapped back.

 

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said. And it wasn’t in his voice, or the voice of a king from centuries ago. It was the voice of a friend. Of someone with whom you had spent hundreds of nights lying side by side with as you stared into a campfire, whispering into the night. Of someone who had stood by you, during all of your most difficult of challenges, because you were stronger with them by your side. It was the voice of someone whose back you would always guard, because you knew they would always, always have yours. It was the voice of someone you had laughed and bickered  and broken bread with. Because they were the one person in the world that you knew you could trust more than anyone else. And it was the only voice Arthur could use, because it was all he had.

 

And it was that voice that was apparently the one thing that could break Merlin, because he lowered his arms, closed his eyes and shook his head.

 

“Please don’t make me do this Arthur,” he begged. “ _Please_.”

 

Arthur took another step forward, until there was no more than a foot of space between them, and stared at Merlin’s lowered head. _What happened to you Merlin?_ He wanted to ask. _You never bowed before anyone or anything. What the bloody hell happened?_ But he didn’t, because he knew he would be finding out soon enough.

 

“You have to finish it Merlin.” Arthur said, and there was something of the king in his voice this time as he spoke. “And then, once you’re done, I’ll leave you alone and you’ll never have to see me again if that’s what you want. You have my oath. But you have to _finish it_.”

 

Merlin was so still and so silent that for a moment Arthur wondered if he had stopped breathing. But then Arthur heard Merlin’s shaky exhale and saw him finally, finally nod.

 

“All right,” he said, stepping to the side and away from Arthur. “All right.” He seemed to be gathering himself with each step he took. “Take off your shirt and lie down on your right side on the table. The tail is going to curl around your lower back, over your hip and up over your side, and we’re going to want to have you move as little as possible. So try to get as comfortable as you can. Let me wash my hands, get my inks ready, and then…Then we’ll finish it.”

 

***

 

“What the hell is that?” Merlin said, when he had finally rolled his stool over to the table so he could start to clean Arthur’s skin.

 

“What the hell is what?” Arthur asked, lifting his head.

 

“That. What is that?” Merlin repeated. Arthur looked to where he was pointing, at the purple discolouration on the lower left side of Arthur’s abdomen.

 

“It’s a birthmark Merlin. I’ve always had it.” Arthur said. It was about three inches long, and a finger width wide.

 

“You’ve always had it?” Merlin’s hand trembled ever so slightly as he reached for it, only to pull back at the last instant.

 

“Yes Merlin, I was born with it. That’s why it’s called a birthmark.” Arthur said. He couldn’t see what the big deal was. It was just a birthmark. Morgana had teased him relentlessly about it when they were growing up, saying that it looked as if someone…as if someone had stabbed him and had left a scar.

 

Arthur swallowed at the memory, and then looked up at Merlin, who had gone pale and still.

 

“It’s just a birthmark Merlin.” He said again, but he wasn’t so sure this time. “You can work around it, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Merlin said finally, as he wiped down Arthur’s skin. “Yeah, I can. I’ll have to, won’t I?”

 

“Good,” Arthur said. “Good. Just finish this Merlin, and then we can both go home.”

 

***

 

_Arthur does not know where he is or how he got here. All he knows is that is it quiet and it is still. And then there are hands on his face. Their touch is hot and that is when Arthur knows that something is very wrong._

_Because Merlin’s hands, whenever they have touched him before, have always, always been cool._

_He goes to take a breath, to start to ask “What’s wrong?” And that is when he feels it. A burning, searing pain, unlike any other pain he has ever felt before, curling up his left side, fingers creaking into his heart._

(“Ah,” Arthur thought. “So this is how it ends.”)

_He looks up at Merlin then, looks into beloved, tear filled blue eyes and feels another pain in his heart, different than the crouch of death already there. Because this will never be. It’s already over, slipping through his fingers and his blood stained lips, where he can taste the blood there, choking him, Morgana’s last kiss, before it’s even had a chance to begin._

_(_ And Arthur knew then that Merlin had changed the colour of his ink. And that this ink would be the deepest, darkest red. Crimson with pain. Black with death. Everything that Merlin is and has ever been afraid of. _)_

_Merlin is begging, pleading with him, asking for one last promise, probably the only thing he has ever asked of Arthur. The only thing he has ever wanted enough to ask for himself. And it is the one thing that Arthur cannot give._

_But Arthur knows Merlin. And he also knows a bit of the ways of magic now, for all the poison it’s been to his life. A fair exchange. A life for a life. Arthur knows the power of a wish made on a last breath._

_So he whispers “hold me” because that is all he has the strength left to say. But in his heart, his aching, burning, dying heart, what he says is “Wait for me. I will find you again. I promise. Just wait for me.” One last breath, one last promise. And then…_

 

***

 

There is nothing but darkness.

 

***

 

“NO!” Merlin shouted, and his tattoo gun went clattering to the floor. “ _Nonononononononotagainnotagainnotagain!_ ” He stood up so quickly that his stool was flung  backwards into the nearby mirror, shattering it into hundreds of pieces that glittered like raindrops as they scattered over the floor. His hands were fisted in his own hair, and he was shaking his head, and his eyes…His eyes were burning _gold_.

 

“Merlin.” Arthur coughed, and he would have sworn that he could still taste the blood at the back of his throat. But Merlin didn’t hear him.

 

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!” Merlin was muttering, over and over and over again, a litany of pain and loss and despair.

 

“Merlin!” Arthur tried to shout, and he must have succeeded, because Merlin stopped and looked at him, his eyes bleeding slowly back into blue.

 

“I’m sorry Arthur. I’m sorry.” He was shaking his head and already backing away. “We’re finished here. Will-Will will finish wrapping you up, and then you can go home, because I just – I just can’t.” And then he turned and ran, disappearing somewhere into the back of the studio.

 

“Merlin wait!” Arthur called after him, and struggled to get up. But his arms were shaking and his legs wouldn’t hold him.

 

“Easy there mate.” There was suddenly a strong and steady hand pressing gently on the back of his shoulders, urging him to lie down. “Give it a minute.” Arthur was able to turn his head enough to see Will standing over him, gazing down at him in concern.

 

“But-but Merlin…” Arthur gasped, but that was all he could manage at the moment, and this time he didn’t resist when Will pressed him back down so he could lie on his side.

 

“Yeah, I know.” Will said, reaching beneath the table to hand him an opened sports drink, before turning to Merlin’s station to find and pull on a pair of latex gloves. “But we’ve got to set you to rights before you can go after him. And Merlin will kill me if I let you walk out of here without wrapping you up first.” And then he went quiet as he carefully dabbed at Arthur’s burning side, checking over Merlin’s work with a quick efficiency before he sprayed the blissfully cool solution on Arthur’s tender skin. 

 

“Did he at least finish it?” Arthur asked, after he had finished the bottle and finally, finally felt like he could breathe again. Will’s hands had been surprisingly gentle and calm as he worked, his fingers sure as he spread a thin coating of petroleum jelly over the tattoo. But at Arthur’s question, he stilled.

 

“Yeah, he finished it.” Will said. “It’s finally done Arthur.” There was something in his voice, in the way he said Arthur’s name for the first time, knowing and deep and full of a sad acceptance that caused Arthur to look up. And then he was staring at Will, but what he saw was not Merlin’s mate and the co-owner of _Excalibur Ink_ , with his broad shoulders and arms that were covered in intricate sleeves of Celtic knotwork. Instead it was a slightly younger version, who had stood outside of a small, ramshackle hut and had embraced Merlin like a brother when he had finally returned home after years of being away.

 

“W-Will?” Arthur thought his heart would stop again if he had to deal with one more surprise tonight.

 

“Remember me now, do you Arthur?” Will asked.

 

“ _You knew?_ ” And there went Arthur’s heart again, stuttering as his mind raced along a million pathways, both old and new. “All of this time, and you knew what was going on?”

 

At that, Will sighed and slowly pushed himself away from the table. He pulled off his latex gloves and tossed them in the rubbish bin before turning back to Arthur.

 

“I was the first person he ever tattooed, after the artist we trained under, a daft old fucker, but a master, a real master of tattooing, decided we had enough training to graduate from practicing on pig skins to working on real people. Merlin and I grew up together. We may not be brothers in blood, but we are in everything else, and when we both decided we wanted to become tattoo artists, of course the first person I would want to tattoo me would be him. He’s always been a brilliant artist, so I told him he could tattoo whatever he wanted on me, wherever he wanted. And he gave me this.” And then Will lifted up the front of his shirt, revealing his chest, showing Arthur Merlin’s first tattoo.

 

It was a pair of hands that ran across Will’s chest. Two male hands that came together in a clasp of friendship and brotherhood. They were simple, but there was a lovely layer of shading to them, that filled in all of the needed details. As Arthur studied them, he could recognize Merlin’s long, thin fingers, and Will’s thicker, sturdier ones as they wrapped around each other in a promise to never let go. Arthur cocked his head, following the fine lines of Merlin’s work, and that’s when he noticed exactly where the hands met.

 

They were over Will’s heart, right where once, a very long time ago, the bolt of an arrow had brought an end to yet another life that Merlin had held so very dear. _Oh Merlin,_ Arthur thought. _Gwaine was so right about you._

 

“It’s not his best work, and he’s gotten much better since then.” Will was saying as he lowered his shirt, and then held out his arms, twisting them back and forth to show them off. “But it’s my fave, out of all of my tats. And his eyes glowed gold the entire time he was doing it.”

 

“Has it happened with anyone else?” Arthur asked as Will snapped on another pair of latex gloves and began to wrap Arthur’s skin in a sterile sheet of gauze.

 

“Freya.” Will answered as he worked. “There’s a tattoo of a bastet rising out of a lake that Merlin did on the back of her shoulder. The same thing happened while he was working on her. But then no one for years. At least not until your friend Gwaine showed up.” A beat, a moment of silence. “And then there was you.”

 

“Does Merlin know?” Because that was the question, the most important question of all. At this, Will paused and lowered his hands. He took a long, deep breath and then looked up at Arthur.

 

“Weird shite always happened around Merlin when we were growing up. Dishes falling that never hit the floor as hard as they should. Doors that should have been locked that we were always able to get into. And then one time…”

 

“One time?” Arthur urged.

 

“One time, when we were about ten or so, Mum, Merlin and I were in the car, on our way back home from the movies, I think. Merlin and I were in the back seat, arguing over who was the better hero, Superman or Batman, some shite like that, when this drunk bastard came out of nowhere. Fucker didn’t even have his lights on and he should have hit us, should have slammed right into the right side where Mum and I were sitting. And I remember screaming.” Will swallowed and then shook his head at the memory. “He was going so fast it would have crushed us. But at the last second, the car just swerved like an invisible hand had pushed it out of the way, and Mum had stopped the car and was shouting at us, checking to make sure we were both okay.”

 

“Jesus Christ.” Arthur muttered.

 

“Scariest fucking moment of my life. But there we were, by the side of the road, not a goddamned scratch on the car. So yeah Arthur, he’s always had the magic. I didn’t know what it was until he gave me the tattoo. I just thought the bastard was extremely lucky. But then I remembered, and everything started to make a hell of a lot more sense.” Will leaned back and sighed. “As for whether or not Merlin’s knows. I don’t know. I don’t think so. After he finished working on me, he went out and got more pissed than I’d ever seen him. Then he was quiet for a few days, claiming he was just hungover. But after that, he acted like nothing had happened. I never mentioned it, and he never asked. I don’t think he had a reason to. At least, not until you showed up.”

 

“I have to find him Will. I have to talk to him. Please.” Arthur rose from the table, and looked around for his shirt. “Do you think he’s out in the back alley, having a smoke?”

 

“Nah, you won’t find him there.” Will said as he began to gather the remains of the detritus of Arthur’s tattoo. “That’s not where he goes when he really needs his space to think.”

 

“Then where-“ Arthur began as he pulled on his tee.

 

“If you go up the back stairs, three flights up to the roof, we’ve got a bit of a garden set up. A few chairs, a table, it’s a quiet place where any of us go when we need a breather.”

 

“Three flights up?” Arthur asked, already starting to head towards where he had seen Merlin run off.

 

“But you can’t get up there. At least not without a key. The door’s locked.”

 

“Not without a key?” Arthur turned back to Will, ready to scream in frustration, only to see Will standing there with a single key dangling from his fingers. “Oh for fuck’s sake Will!” Arthur went to grab for it, but Will closed his fingers and then took a step back. “Will?”

 

“Listen Arthur,” Will said, and in his voice was something low and dangerous. “You were never my friend, and you were never my king. I don’t know what the fuck you did to Merlin to make him react like that, but if you do anything, and I mean _anything_ to hurt him like that this time around, I don’t fucking care who you are in this life, I promise you, you will not see me coming.”

 

Arthur lifted his chin and met Will’s gaze as calmly, as steadily as he could, all of the while everything inside of him screaming, yearning, burning _Merlin, Merlin, find Merlin,_ and said “I never _ever_ wanted to hurt Merlin. I promise you, it’s the last thing I ever want to do. But if I do,” at this, Arthur cocked his head in Will’s direction in respect, “I will expect nothing less from you.”

 

Will stared at him for several long seconds, studying, assessing, before he finally nodded, opened his hand, and tossed Arthur the key.

 

***

 

The first thing Arthur noticed when he burst through the door and out onto the roof, was the rain. Where it had been a mild, clear night when Arthur first arrived at _Excalibur Ink_ , it was now a maelstrom of wind and water, thunder and lightning. Arthur skidded to a stop, and looked up at the sky. He knew where this storm had come from. Why it was suddenly here. It was Merlin’s heart. All of his hurt and rage and grief, and it was going to tear itself, and all of London, into pieces.

 

The second thing he noticed, as he shielded his eyes and searched around him, was a thin, dark figure, hunched against the outside of the stairway, barely shielded from the storm, desperately smoking a cigarette.

 

_Oh Merlin_ , Arthur thought as he fought his way through the wind to stand in front of him.

 

“Go away Will.” Merlin mumbled, without even bothering to look up.

 

“It’s not Will.” Arthur said. And the sound of his voice caused Merlin to jerk back and look up. His hair was plastered to his head in short black ribbons, his eyes wide and wild, and even through the rain, Arthur could see the tears that streamed down his cheeks.

 

“Hello Merlin.” And this time, it was the voice of King Arthur who spoke. “I’ve been looking for you.” But Merlin was shaking his head, refusing to meet Arthur’s gaze.

 

“Go away,” he said again, the words shaky and weak.

 

“No.” Arthur stopped directly in front of Merlin, and leaned forward ever so slightly. “I won’t go away Merlin. You should know by now that I’ve never listened to a thing you’ve said.”

 

“Just go away. Just go the fuck away, you bastard. Leave me alone.”

 

“And why would I ever do that?”

 

“ _Because you did before!_ ” Merlin cried, and his eyes were blazing with gold. There was a strike of lighting and a boom of thunder, close, so close that Arthur felt the building shake. But if Merlin thought that would stop him, that Arthur would be afraid, when he had never, ever been afraid of Merlin before, then Merlin truly didn’t remember his king. It was a battle, Arthur thought, just like any other of the hundreds of battles Arthur had fought and won in the past. And this time would not be any different. This battle was the most important of his life, and he would not lose Merlin again.

 

So King Arthur stood tall and proud in the middle of Merlin’s storm, and finally, finally, looked upon his Sorcerer.

 

Merlin saw him then, saw him standing with everything he was and everything he had ever been, and something in him seemed to crumble. He hunched forward even more, wiped at his cheeks with his hands, and then the Sorcerer finally, finally, looked upon his King.

 

“You died Arthur,” and it was heartbreak and sorrow and so very much loss. “You were in my arms, and I was holding you, _and you died._ ” He was sobbing now, everything in him threatening to shred itself apart.

 

“Oh Merlin,” Arthur did say it this time, as he took one last step forward and pulled Merlin into his arms. “I am so so sorry.”

 

“You were my everything, and I loved you so much, and you died.”

 

“I never meant to hurt you Merlin, and I never wanted to leave you.” Merlin trembled in his arms, and Arthur wanted to never ever let him go. But he had to, he had to make Merlin understand before he ripped the city apart. “But, and this is the important part Merlin, are you listening to me?” Merlin’s eyes were closed, and he was shaking his head, refusing to listen, refusing to believe. Arthur gave him a slight shake and ordered “ _Merlin, look at your King._ ”

 

And when Merlin, who could never resist a command from his king when it was truly meant, finally did, Arthur leaned forward to make sure Merlin would see the truth in his eyes as he said,

 

“ _I came back for you._ For you Merlin. And I’ve been looking for you all this time. And now I’ve finally found you. Do you think I’m ever going to let you go?”

 

“Are you fucking serious?” Merlin asked, but there was something in his voice, something that maybe, just maybe, sounded a little bit like hope.

 

“Oh I assure you, I am very fucking serious right now. And in five minutes, I’m going to prove to you how very serious I am. But first,” Arthur took a small step back, squinted up into the storm, and then back at Merlin.

 

“But first?”

 

“But first, you have to stop the rain. You’re going to destroy our city if you don’t.”

 

“What do you mean stop the rain? I didn’t do this. Why would you think that?” Merlin wasn’t quite there yet. Arthur could see the doubt and fear in his eyes. He would fix that in a moment, but there were other things he had to take care of first.

 

“ _Mer_ lin. You did and you can. But it’s okay. You don’t have to hide anything from me anymore. Never again. I promise you.” And with that, Arthur reached out and gently took Merlin’s face into his hands. He leaned forward, ever so slightly, and whispered into Merlin’s ear “ _Make. It. Stop._ ”

 

And then Arthur leaned forward and kissed Merlin for the first time.

 

And Arthur’s heart, which had been betrayed and stabbed and abandoned and poisoned, in different ways in both of his lives, finally, finally soared.

 

Merlin’s hands were around his wrists when he stepped back from lips that were soft and sweet, and his eyes were gold with both magic and hope. Arthur did not need to look around to know that the storm had stopped. The air was still and cool around them, and the only sound Arthur could hear was the last final drops of water as they fell from the furniture onto the ground below. But Arthur only spared the now gone storm a second’s worth of thought, before he was focusing again on Merlin. Merlin, whose cheeks were flushed as Arthur gently wiped the tears away with his thumbs. Merlin, who had stopped trembling and was slowly straightening his stance. Merlin, who was looking at him as if Arthur was his miracle.

 

“Arthur.” Merlin finally spoke, and on his lips Arthur’s name was a benediction and a gift. Arthur smiled.

 

“There you are.” And then, because he had waited two lifetimes for this, and because he could, Arthur said “Hello _Beloved_.”

 

And then Arthur leaned forward and kissed Merlin again.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Burning**

 

They could not let go of each other.

 

Later Arthur would remember stumbling through a door and then down the stairs, through another door and then up even more stairs until finally, finally they collapsed into the soft warmth of Merlin’s bed. And all the while, there were kisses and grasping hands and whispered “ _Merlin, Merlin, I need you, Merlin_ ,” and “ _Arthur, oh god, yes, please, Arthur_.”

 

Merlin’s hands were hot on his skin (and not because Arthur was cold from dying) as they reached under his shirt and trailed over his flesh, while he kissed Arthur’s neck, his chin, his lips over and over again. Arthur’s own hands were desperate and needy as he ran them down Merlin’s spine and cupped the pert rise of Merlin’s arse, squeezing, grasping, kneading.

 

“Do you top?” Merlin murmured when he finally pulled back to take a breath, crouched over Arthur in the moonlit darkness.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I do.” Arthur gasped, reaching for him.

 

“Thank god.” Merlin said. But then he cocked his head, and there was something hungry and endless in his eyes as he stared down at Arthur’s supine form on his bed and asked “Do you bottom?”

 

“Yeah Merlin, I do.”

 

“Even better,” Merlin groaned and crawled over Arthur, his movements lithe and sinuous as he lied himself down on top of Arthur’s body. Arthur spread his thighs to cradle Merlin between them, and then there was more kissing and grasping, hungry tongues and shuddering breaths, and Arthur _needed_ more.

 

“Off, off, all of it off.” Arthur demanded, grabbing at Merlin’s shirt.

 

“Patience Arthur. We’ll get there.” Merlin’s breath was hot against his ear.

 

“Now Merlin!”

 

Merlin laughed as he gave one last lick, last bite to Arthur’s ear, before he slowly sat back on his haunches and grinned down at Arthur.

 

“You’re going to be just as much of a demanding prat in bed as you were in everything else, aren’t you?”

 

_“Merlin!”_

 

But Merlin was already rising to his knees, reaching behind him to pull off his shirt. He rose even further to kick off his jeans. And then there he was, naked in front of Arthur as he had never been before. Arthur could finally, finally see all of him, and the tattoo Merlin had teased him about all of those months back. And it was…

 

There were no words.

 

It was a huge tree that covered the entirety of Merlin’s chest. A strange reflection of Arthur’s own dragon, its endless branches curled up from the base of Merlin’s abdomen, rising, spreading, swirling into a sea of greens. There were leaves of emerald, jade, malachite, that swam and spun up Merlin’s pectorals and over the tops of his shoulders, down the inner folds of Merlin’s upper arms. Millions of them, rippling, shivering, whispering over Merlin’s chest. They shimmered and glistened with each breath Merlin took, each pulse of his heart as they reached skyward with eager, joyful turns. Arthur could see their crisp edges and veins, and he wanted to reach out and offer not submission, but service, life, love to the glory of it all.

 

“ _Crann Bethadh._ ” Merlin told him. “The tree of life. My old master gave it to me. Took months, just like yours did. Told me it was his best work when he was finally done.” And then Merlin laughed, and shook his head.

 

“What?” Arthur asked, his hand paused midair in his reach for Merlin.

 

“The fucker’s name was _Kilgarrah_.” Merlin shook his head again. “I didn’t realize until now. Old bastard.”

 

“Forget about it Merlin, we can talk about it later.” Arthur’s fingers finally made it to Merlin’s skin, tracing over the web of leaves and branches, down the trunk of the tree, where there was a strange empty space, lower and lower to the roots, then trailed down Merlin’s hips and over the top of his groin until…

 

“What the hell is that?” Arthur asked.

 

“That Arthur, is called an _apadravya._ And in five minutes, it’s going to be your new best friend.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Merlin told him as he crawled forward, bringing his cock into Arthur’s reach. “Go on. You can play with it. In fact, I’d really love it if you would.” Arthur reached out and took Merlin’s hard dick into his hand. It was long and thick, with veins trailing all along the length. And there, under the glans, were two beads at each end of a bar that ran vertical just beneath the head. Arthur ran his fingertips over them, twisting, tugging them slightly, and then pulled his hand back when Merlin hissed.

 

“Does that hurt?” He asked, looking up at Merlin’s face.

 

“No, no, not at all.” Merlin told him. “In fact, it feels really good.”

 

“Holy shite Merlin.” Arthur went back to playing with the beads. They were smooth and cool, compared to the heat of Merlin’s cock, and Arthur found he was fascinated with them.

 

“Hmmm,” Merlin hummed, and there was a warm content in his voice. But then he pulled back and brushed Arthur’s hands away. “Enough of that. You can play with them all you want later. But first, your turn.” He reached for Arthur’s jeans, undoing the zip, before in one quick yank he pulled them off and tossed them to the floor.

 

“Holy shite Merlin,” Arthur said again, but he was laughing this time, and then sighing as Merlin trailed his fingers along the insides of his thighs.

 

“How’s the tat?” Merlin asked as he took the ends of Arthur’s still damp shirt into his hands. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

 

“Fine, fine.” Arthur assured him. “Will actually did a good job of wrapping it up.”

 

“Good, good, I’m glad.” Merlin said as he pulled the shirt up and off Arthur’s head. “I’m sorry for leaving you like that, I really am Arthur. And I love Will. I do. But let’s not mention anybody else tonight, right? It’s just you and me now.”

 

“Yeah Merlin. Yeah.” Arthur said, lowering his hand to run it through Merlin’s thick, dark hair. “Just you and me.” And then Arthur lost all of his words as Merlin leaned forward and ran his tongue in a long, slow stripe from Arthur’s navel, up his chest, and to his adam’s apple, where he pressed a soft, reverent kiss.

 

His fingertips were both graceful and grateful as he trailed them over Arthur’s skin. And his gaze was full of warmth and adoration as he looked upon Arthur, until he closed his eyes, lowered his head, and took Arthur’s dick into the hot welcome of his mouth.

 

Arthur found his words then, and they were all “ _fuck_ ” and “ _yes_ ” and “ _please_ ” and “ _more_ ” as Merlin sucked and slurped greedily at him. And then Merlin’s fingers, his long, strong, artist’s fingers, were sliding into his arsehole, slowly probing and searching as they extended and stretched, reaching, reaching, reaching into Arthur’s body. Arthur was a trembling, shaking mess when he could finally take a breath, and he tightened his fingers into Merlin’s hair and pulled him off his cock. Merlin’s lips were swollen and red when Arthur looked down at him and demanded “ _Now Merlin! Now!_ ”

 

Merlin chuckled then, low and deep, before he pulled away and reached for the drawer in his bedside table, coming back with a condom and bottle of lube.

 

“Let me do it. I want to.” Arthur gasped as Merlin tore the wrapper open with his teeth and pulled the condom out.

 

“Not this time Arthur,” Merlin said, as he carefully rolled the condom on. “There’s a trick to it with the beads, yeah? I’ll teach it to you and then you can do it the next time.”

 

“Fuck the next time,” Arthur growled, as he grabbed for the lube. “Tomorrow we’re going and getting tested, and then fuck the bloody condoms.”

 

“Tomorrow’s Sunday Arthur.” Merlin laughed, and then moaned as Arthur reached out and squeezed his dick with his now lubed covered hand, smearing the slick all over the length.

 

“Monday then. Monday.” Arthur said, lying back.

 

“Confident, aren’t you, you royal prat.”

 

“Yes Merlin, I am. I found you again after all of this time, didn’t I?” Arthur said, spreading his thighs again. Merlin froze and then looked at him, his eyes wide and searching in the dark.

 

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, you did Arthur. You did.”

 

“That’s right, I did. Now shut up and fuck me Merlin,” Arthur said, reaching for him. “And that is an order from your King.”

 

“Yes, your Majesty,” Merlin purred, and then he leaned forward, lifting Arthur’s leg so it rested on his shoulder, and slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, pushed himself inside.

 

It was thick, and it was hot, and Arthur thought he would die from the stretch and the burn alone. But he loved this, he truly, truly did. And he knew that with Merlin he was safe, and that Merlin would never, ever deny him anything he wanted, anything he needed. Because Merlin had always given Arthur everything Arthur asked of him. Because he wanted to. Because Merlin loved him. He always had, and he always would. And that was a gift. That was a grace. And with that cradled in his heart, Arthur let go.

 

And then they were kissing and sucking and clutching to each other desperately in the warm, dark night. Arthur dug his hands into Merlin’s back, feeling the long, sleek muscles curl and clench under his touch. Merlin was holding him, stroking him, as his hips moved and pressed forward, shoving his dick deep into Arthur’s eager body, over and over, again and again. Arthur was kissing Merlin everywhere he could reach, his lips, his cheek, those wonderful, ridiculous, glorious ears, and all the while he whispered “ _Merlin, Merlin, Merlin._ ” And Merlin whispered back “ _I know_ ” and “ _I love you, I’ve always loved you_ ” and “ _I’ve got you Arthur. I’ve got you._ ” And then Merlin tilted his hips, just so, and one of the beads, that Arthur knew he was going to love for the rest of his life, shifted and hit just the right spot, and Arthur’s back arched and he howled and then came.

 

Merlin was laughing, and it was filled with joy and love and a thousand years’ worth of yearning now suddenly fulfilled. Then he stilled, shuddered and pulsed, before collapsing on top of Arthur’s chest.

 

It was Arthur’s turn then, to cradle him in his arms, kiss his temple, and keep him safe. “I love you Merlin. So very very much. And I will never leave you again.”

 

Merlin shivered, nodded, and pressed his face into Arthur’s neck, where Arthur could feel his breath, hot and wet against his own sweat covered skin. Arthur tightened his arms around him, pulling Merlin even closer. “Love you,” he whispered again, laying yet another kiss to Merlin’s hair.

 

And then finally, finally, the King held his Sorcerer in his arms, warm and safe in the night, and fell asleep, his heart content.


	10. Chapter 10

 

**Healing**

 

The next morning, Arthur woke up to the feel of sunlight across this face, a warm weight upon his chest, and the sound of…purring?

 

Shifting slightly, Arthur cracked one eye open to find a huge long haired orange tabby on top of the blankets, staring at him disdainfully. The tabby wasn’t the one making the purring noise though, and when he turned his head he found another cat, a black moggie, curled comfortably on the pillow where Merlin had slept the night before. It was a tiny thing, but it was rumbling like a motorboat.

 

“Hello.” He croaked, reaching out to scritch the black one’s head. It stopped purring immediately, and let out a sound that sounded more like an elephant’s sneeze than a meow, and Arthur knew he wouldn’t be going back to sleep after that.

 

After a complicated negotiation of trying to get out from underneath the tabby while not disturbing the black cat’s pillow, Arthur found his way to the bathroom, and after performing his morning routine as best he could, he went looking for Merlin.

 

Being somewhat distracted the night before, Arthur hadn’t really had a chance to take in Merlin’s flat. As he emerged from the bedroom, the two cats cautiously circling his feet, he realised he was staring down from a loft space that looked into a huge open living area. Like in all of the other rooms in the building he had so far seen, the floors were hardwood. Three huge bay windows looked out into the street, where in one a small, pillowed nook had been set up. They let in a warm, bright light that kissed the red brick that made up the interior walls, that were lined liberally with crammed bookshelves, artwork, and a surprisingly small entertainment system. There was a drafting table with various art supplies scattered across its top in one corner, a small dining area with three chairs in another, and in the center of the room facing the television, a big, soft looking couch. Arthur found himself smiling as he made his way down the stairs that lined one wall. It felt like Merlin, quirky and welcoming, and he immediately found himself growing more and more comfortable with each step he took. And it was, he decided, a lovely way to wake up, curious cats and all. Except for the fact that someone was missing.

 

He found Merlin in the small kitchen beneath the stairs, wearing nothing but a pair of track pants, eating ice cream directly from the container as he stared out another window into the day beyond.

 

“Really Merlin?” Arthur said, raising an eyebrow at the spoon in Merlin’s hand. Merlin turned and looked at him, and the smile that slowly spread across his lips was the best gift that Arthur had ever been given, by anyone, in any of his lives.

 

“Shut up.” Merlin said, but he held the spoon out, his smile growing even wider when Arthur stepped forward and took the proffered mouthful from him. “I’m actually cooking something, but I needed a snack to tide me over while I waited for your lazy arse to get out of bed.”  Arthur could actually smell something comforting and savory in the air, but he forgot about it as soon as he took another step forward so he could press a soft kiss to Merlin’s lips. They were cold, and tasted of the butter pecan ice cream they had just shared, but it warmed Arthur deep in his bones none-the-less.

 

At that, the black moggie let out another of its unearthly meows and Arthur jerked back in surprise.

 

“I see you’ve met the Demonic Duo.” Merlin laughed, putting the ice cream down before bending over and scooping both cats up in his arms. “Arthur, I’d like you to meet Inigo,” At this, he kissed the big orange tabby’s head, “And Fezzik.” And then he kissed the black one. “Don’t let them fool you. Fezzik’s bark is definitely worse than his bite, and all Inigo ever really wants is a warm place to sleep and someone to scratch his arse.”

 

“Hello.” Arthur said as he tentatively reached out to stroke Inigo’s head, and then Fezzik’s, who started up his rumbling purr once again. “It’s nice to meet you, although I think your daddy got your names mixed up.”

 

“Don’t blame me,” Merlin said, as he bent down to let the cats go. They immediately began curling around his ankles and meowing. “How was I supposed to know they’d turn out like this?  Will and I found them one night underneath the dumpster out back, covered in fleas and starving,  all three of them so tiny they could fit in the palm of our hands. I took these two and Will took the other one.”

 

“What’s that one called then?” Arthur asked as Merlin went over to the counter and started to fill two bowls with kibble.

 

“Buttercup.” Merlin said with a snort.

 

“No shite?” Arthur said, laughing at the idea of Will with a cat named Buttercup.

 

“No shite.” Merlin answered. “And let me tell you, he spoils that fluffy little princess like you would not believe.” Merlin put the two now full bowls of food on the floor, and the cats fell upon them as if they had been starved for days. Inigo ate quietly, using his paw to scoop up the kibble to his mouth, while Fezzik grunted and snorted and basically sounded like a troll. Arthur couldn’t help but laugh again as he watched them, already finding himself falling a little bit in love with the beasts. He looked back to up to see Merlin smiling thoughtfully at him, something quiet and assessing in his eyes, but content none-the-less. “Coffee?”

 

“Oh god, yes please.” Arthur groaned, running a hand through his hair as Merlin chuckled.

 

“I see some things about you haven’t changed at least. Still not a morning person, eh?” Merlin asked.

 

“I refuse to dignify that question with an answer. Now where’s my coffee _Mer_ lin.”

 

The morning passed surprisingly easily after that. Once the two cats had finished their food, they meandered off to settle in the little sun nook, where Inigo began to thoroughly groom Fezzik, who had curled back up and accepted his brother’s attentions as if they were his due. Arthur watched them from his seat by the kitchen table as he sipped at his coffee while Merlin gathered plates and cutlery in the kitchen. As his eyes wandered over the interior of the flat once more, taking in even more of the details, he found himself thinking “ _My entertainment center would fit perfectly in those shelves_ ,” and “ _My coffee table would look really good with the couch._ ”

 

“What are you thinking?” Merlin asked suspiciously, as he set the food down in front of Arthur, eyeing him cautiously.

 

“It’s a nice flat,” Arthur said, glancing down at his plate. Merlin had made them frittatas, and they smelled delicious. “Just wondering how you can afford it, that’s all. I mean, I know you make good money, my credit card bills can attest to that, but still. It’s a really nice flat Merlin.”

 

“I own the building.” Merlin said simply.

 

“You do?” Arthur was surprised.

 

“Yeah. I inherited it from my great uncle- _Shite._ ” At that, Merlin dropped his fork on the table, and cupped his forehead in his hands.

 

“Merlin?” Arthur asked, moving over so he could crouch down next to Merlin’s side. He reached out and rubbed his hand over Merlin’s back. Merlin was taking deep breaths, and shaking his head slowly. “What is it Merlin?”

 

“ _My great uncle Gaius._ ” Merlin whispered. “I inherited the building from him. Shite. I never realised.”

 

Arthur continued to rub circles on Merlin’s back as he thought about it. Finally, when Merlin looked like he wasn’t about to hyperventilate he said, “That makes sense though.”

 

“What? How?” Merlin asked, looking up at him.

 

“Well,” Arthur went on. “From what I’ve seen so far, it seems like you spent a good part of your life gathering together all of the people you once loved. Given who and what you are, it’s understandable that you wanted them all around you again. You wanted to keep them safe, and give them all the chances they didn’t get the last time. Just like I’ve been gathering all of my people around me. And they all seem happier this time around. I don’t see anything wrong with that, do you?”

 

Merlin was quiet for a while, processing Arthur’s words, before he heaved a deep sigh and shook his head. “No. No, I guess you’re right.” He said, leaning back to pick up his fork. “It’s just going to take a bit of getting used to, I suppose.”

 

“We have all the time in the world now Merlin.” Arthur kissed his temple before he rose and went back to his own seat. The frittata really did smell delicious and he was _starving_. Merlin was smiling at him again as he watched him eat, and Arthur knew it was going to be wonderfully easy getting used to mornings like this. And then Merlin’s face fell again.

 

“Wait!” Merlin asked. “What do you mean _your people?_ It’s not just Gwaine?”

 

“I can’t wait to introduce you to everybody else.” Arthur cackled. “They’re just going to love you!”

 

***

 

Once they had finished eating and cleaned up, Merlin insisted on checking the last piece of Arthur’s tattoo. His hands were reverent and gentle as he carefully cleaned and then moisturized Arthur’s skin, where he laid a tender kiss when he was done. Then, to Arthur’s dismay, Merlin insisted that he had to go back down to the studio to check things over.

 

“But,” Arthur objected forlornly, “Bed Merlin! Your bed’s right there. And…And the beads!”

 

“You’ll get plenty of chances to play with them Arthur, I promise you.” Merlin laughed as he kissed Arthur’s nose. But his voice was solemn as he continued. “But I left things in a mess down there, and that’s not fair to anyone. And I need to speak to Will.”

 

“Yeah, okay.” Arthur sighed. And he understood. He really did. “But then after?”

 

“Yes. After, I promise you, you demanding prat.” It felt so good to hear that term in Merlin’s voice. Arthur knew that no matter how quickly he got used to it, it was not something he would ever take for granted again.

 

“Good.” Arthur said as he followed Merlin out of the flat. “Because we were kind of in a hurry last night, and I didn’t really get a chance to explore. I’m kind of dying to get a look at that heart  I hear you’ve got on your arse.” Merlin’s laughter echoed around him as he closed and locked the door.

 

***

 

But Merlin was silent as they made their way into the studio. And Will was already there, sitting quietly at his station, tossing a tennis ball back and forth in his hands. He looked up as they entered, his eyes going from Arthur to Merlin, a slow, careful examination as he took in the expression on Merlin’s face. He rose to his feet as Merlin slowly approached him, wariness and caution, but also longing, so much longing, in every step Merlin took. Until Merlin finally stopped no more than a foot away from his best friend from childhood, and gazed at him with sad but hopeful eyes.

 

“Will,” Merlin whispered in a voice that hurt Arthur’s heart to hear. Will stared at him for one long second, before he was reaching out and grabbing Merlin by the back of his neck, pulling him close to press their foreheads together.

 

“Hey Merlin,” Will said, just as softly, and Merlin released a quiet laugh that was filled with both relief and happiness. Arthur turned away then. He could hear them murmuring to each other in the quiet of the studio, but he knew that their words were meant for each other, and not him. And that was okay, he thought. Some conversations were supposed to be for brothers alone.

 

They stood like that for a while, arms wrapped around each other, until Will gave Merlin’s neck one last shake, and Merlin laid a kiss to Will’s forehead before they broke apart and smiled at each other.

 

“Sorry about leaving everything is such a state last night.” Merlin said as he looked around.

 

“No worries mate. I was able to clean most of it.” Will said as he sat back down at his station. “But the mirror, that’s toast, yeah. We’re going to have to get a new one.”

 

At that, Merlin walked over to the mirror, staring down at the glass Will had swept into a neat pile. He smiled a sheepish grin, held out his hand, and then his eyes flashed gold. Quicker than a breath, the pieces rose from the floor, and back up into the frame, where they all melded together as if nothing had ever happened. He turned back around and looked at the both of them with a shy little shrug.

 

“ _Lucky. Fucking. Bastard._ ” Will grumbled. But he was laughing as he said it. And Arthur knew then that everything would be okay.

 

***

 

Three days later, Arthur took Merlin to see Gwaine.

 

Merlin was nervous and hesitant as they made their way up the four flights of stairs to Gwaine’s flat. He had kept chewing on his thumbnail all the way there, and when Arthur had taken his hand to get him to stop, he had started gnawing on his lip, until it was so raw it bled.

 

“Stop worrying Merlin,” Arthur told him as they made their way to Gwaine’s door. “I already called him, so he knows we’re coming. He’s looking forward to seeing you again. I promise.” He leaned in and gave Merlin a quick peck to his lips, and then turned and knocked on the door.

 

Less than three seconds later, Gwaine opened the door. He was wearing a pair of worn jeans with frayed knees and a loose olive green tee shirt, looking as handsome and roguish as he always did as he nodded at Arthur and then focused his attention on Merlin. Merlin, who had gone quiet and still where he stood, slightly behind Arthur. Gwaine studied Merlin carefully for a moment, before his entire face brightened with a warm, welcoming smile.

 

“Hey Merlin,” he said, and there was nothing but joy in him as he opened his arms. At which point, Merlin pushed past Arthur and into Gwaine’s embrace, where he promptly burst into tears. Arthur had never seen Gwaine look so confused in his entire life.

 

“What?” Gwaine asked, as he looked down at Merlin, who was clinging to him like his life depended on never letting him go. “Why does everybody cry like that when they see me?” But he tightened his arms around Merlin, and held onto him as if he had no intentions of ever letting go.

 

“That’s because it’s your fucking fault arsehole,” Arthur muttered as he walked past them into Gwaine’s flat.

 

“Says you,” Gwaine said, but then his lowered his head, pressing the side of his face against Merlin’s.

 

“Gwaine, Gwaine, oh my god, _Gwaine_.” Merlin was whispering, his hands clenched tightly in the back of Gwaine’s shirt.

 

“Hey Merlin,” Gwaine answered, lifting a hand to flick lightly at Merlin’s ear. “It’s good to see you again too.”

 

Arthur watched them as they stood there, two close friends finally reunited after too long apart, and felt something warm and content bloom in his chest. Until Merlin stilled, looked up at Gwaine, and asked, “Wait a minute. What do you mean why does everyone cry like that when they see you? Did Arthur do it too?”

 

“Like a little girl, Merlin. He burst into tears and sobbed just like a little girl.”

 

“That’s because he’s jealous of your hair. He always has been, you know.”

 

And Arthur knew then that he was going to regret reintroducing them for the rest of his life.

 

***

 

Arthur spent three nights at Merlin’s flat that first week, and five nights the second. Sometime during the third, when he had only gone home to grab some clothes and his toiletries, he sat down with Merlin over dinner, and they had a conversation where Arthur decided to give up his own Knightsbridge flat, and move in with Merlin. He had inherited the flat from his mother, along with the trust, and it was a beautiful space. But for all of the years he had lived there, it remained just that. A beautiful space. It had never felt like a home, and Merlin’s flat, with its brick walls, artistic flourishes, and demonic cats that he already adored, had an inviting warmth to it that Arthur never wanted to leave. And after everything they had been through to get here, two lives worth of it, neither of them wanted to be apart from the other. It was one of the easiest decisions Arthur had ever made, and he already knew it was the right one. Merlin quickly agreed, and together they decided that it would happen before the end of the month. There was only one thing Arthur had to do first.

 

He had to go home with Merlin and meet his mother.

 

***

 

Hunith was a music teacher, Arthur found out, as he sat on the train from London to Wigan with Merlin and Will. Merlin and Will travelled to visit her the third week-end of every month, without fail. Arthur also found out that Will had not been exaggerating when he said he and Merlin were brothers in everything but blood. Hunith and Will’s mother Susan had been best friends in uni, and Merlin and Will had been born less than three months apart. Will’s parents had been killed in a car accident when he was five years old. His father had no living relatives at the time of his death, and Susan, estranged from her family, had named Hunith as Will’s guardian in her will. Merlin’s own father had been a soldier killed in action in the Middle East when Merlin was still a baby. At 31 years old, Hunith had already been teaching music at a local school, and was left with two five year olds, and a widower’s pension to make ends meet. But she had never once hesitated and raised Will as her own. Times had been tough, and money tight, but both Merlin and Will remembered growing up in a household filled with both laughter and music, travelling with Hunith to music festivals in the summer, and knowing that they were both unconditionally loved. She sold Will’s parents’ house, refusing to touch any of the money, and had put it all into a trust to help pay for Will’s education. After Merlin had inherited the building from his uncle, Will had taken those funds, and together they had opened up _Excalibur Ink_. Hunith had never been anything but supportive of her sons’ dreams. So when Will said “Mum,” he was actually referring to Hunith, and both Will and Merlin practically worshipped the ground she walked on.

 

As Arthur listened to Will and Merlin talk about her, he found himself wondering what his own life would have been like if his mother had survived his childbirth. Or if his father had been as accepting and warm as Hunith seemed to be. He wondered at it, and then started to grow more and more nervous as the train made its way closer to its final destination.

 

Hunith was waiting for them on her doorstep when the taxi finally arrived. She was a short woman, with a soft figure that was draped in a flowing orange skirt, and a matching pink peasant’s blouse, with bright eyes and brown hair in a long braid that trailed down her back as she made her way to Merlin and Will, smiling all the while.

 

“Hello boys.” She laughed, as she took each man into her arms for a tight hug and a kiss, before stepping back and looking at Arthur. “And what have you brought me this time?” She asked, stepping toward him. “Is this your Arthur, Merlin?”

 

“Yes mum. Mum, meet Arthur. Arthur, this is Hunith. My mum.” Merlin’s voice was light and carefree as he made his introductions.

 

“Well now, let me get a good look at you,” Hunith said, gently cupping Arthur’s cheeks in her hands as she carefully studied him. “Ah Merlin, you were right. He is very very handsome.” Arthur felt himself blushing as she spoke.

 

“Told you.” Merlin chirped as he made his way up the path towards Hunith’s front door, both his and Arthur’s bags on his shoulder.

 

“Don’t listen to him Mum,” Will said, as he followed Merlin to the house. “Fucker eats like a pig.”

 

“Oh and like you don’t William.” Hunith chided as she slipped her arm around Arthur’s, and began to lead him up the path. “The two of you practically ate me out of house and home growing up.”

 

“I don’t, really, I don’t.” Arthur stammered, nervous because he wanted this woman to like him, so much so.

 

“He’s a pig Mum!” Merlin called back from somewhere inside of the house.

 

“Oh don’t you mind them dear.” Hunith said, patting his arm. “They’re just both worried they won’t get to eat all of the biscuits they know I baked. They’re greedy sons of bitches, the both of them.” Arthur found himself choking on his own spit as Hunith went on. “But don’t you worry. I made more than enough for everyone. Even with those two here.” With that said, Hunith guided Arthur into her small house, and closed the door behind her.

 

***

 

Hunith’s home, Arthur discovered, was a lot like Hunith herself. It was small, but well kept, warm and oh so very inviting. There was a piano in the front room, as well as a few guitars. The linoleum flooring was worn, but well kept and clean, and all along the walls were mementos from Will and Merlin’s childhood. Photos of the both of them during various stages of their lives, drawings from their school days that evolved into work that was more finessed and graceful as they grew older. There were snaps from various vacations, and the summers at music fairs that Merlin and Will had told Arthur about on their way up. Arthur could feel the love in the walls as he looked around, the smell of something warm and sweet in the air as Hunith gave him a tour.

 

Hunith herself however, was even more charming than the house. She seemed comfortable in her own skin in a way that Uther never had, in her soft clothes that flowed freely around her as she moved, revealing two tattoos that surprised Arthur when he saw them. There was a sun and moon on the back of Hunith’s neck, done in rich blues and shimmering golds that Arthur recognized as Merlin’s work, and a musical staff filled with notes done by Will on her forearm, that was surprisingly delicate given what he was coming to know about Will’s bolder, brasher style.

 

“Do they mean anything?” Arthur asked, as they sat in Hunith’s warm little kitchen, drinking tea and eating the most delicious coconut macaroons Arthur had ever tasted. She had sent Merlin and Will out to the local _Tescos_ to pick up some extra items for dinner, claiming that as a guest Arthur got to stay home with her and have a cup of tea. They all knew it was a lie, and that what Hunith really wanted was time alone with Arthur to get to know him better. But Merlin had just smiled at him reassuringly, while Will called out “Don’t let him eat all my biscuits!” before the two traitors had disappeared, leaving Arthur alone with their mother.

 

“When Merlin was just a boy, he used to get sick a lot. I spent quite a few nights in bed with him, while he was coughing with fever. I used to rub him, in a circle, over and over again, right there, until he stopped.” She said, pointing to the tattoo on the back of her neck. “He told me, after he was done, that it always used to make him feel better whenever I did that. That my hands were so magic,  I could hold both the moon and the sun at the same time.” Arthur smiled at her and then glanced at her arm. Hunith smiled back and lifted the sleeve of her blouse so Arthur could see the entire piece. “Will gave me this one.” At this, she sighed a little sadly and looked at Arthur. “Do you know about Will’s parents?”

 

“Yeah,” Arthur said with a small nod. “They’ve told me.”

 

Hunith sighed again before going on. “That year was a rough one, for all of us. I loved both Susan and William senior with all of my heart. So here I was, mourning the loss of my two best friends in the world, and I now had this confused and scared five year to take care of, along with Merlin. And poor Will, he just didn’t understand that first year what was going on at all. Each night, after dinner, he would go and sit by the window, waiting for his mum and da to come home. Merlin would sit and play with him, trying to distract him, but nothing we did would get him away from that window.” Hunith paused to take a sip of her tea before she continued. “Eventually, a few months later, he realised they weren’t going to come back, and I was able to get him to go to bed at night. But the poor boy had trouble sleeping. So did I, back in those days, wondering how on earth I was going to be able to pay all of the bills on a teacher’s salary. I would get up in the middle of the night, and find Will sitting on the couch, by himself, curled up in a little ball. When I asked him about it, he always told me the same thing. “Can’t sleep,” he’d say, in his squeaky voice. He was a tiny little thing back then. So I would pick him up, and carry him over to the piano, right there.” At this, she pointed at the piano in the front room. “And I would sit him in my lap, and just play the piano and sing to him softly, over and over. It usually worked like a charm, and within 10 minutes he’d be asleep in my arms.” She smiled at Arthur then, warm and bright. “The notes in this tattoo, it’s the exact song I used to play for him those nights.”

 

“Wow,” Arthur said, finding it hard to find the right words. “That’s…That’s amazing.”

 

“Hmmm,” Hunith hummed her agreement. “Plus they’re both gorgeous.”

 

“No they are, they definitely are.” Arthur said. “I was just surprised that you had them, that’s all.”

 

“I’m a musician Arthur,” she told him then. “And both of my boys grew up to be artists. Except their art I can wear on my skin. Yes, I have to cover them both up for work, but otherwise, did you think I wouldn’t show them off proudly?”

 

Arthur stared at her, amazed, and started to fall just a little bit in love.

 

“No, I just…It’s just my father, he never…” Arthur faltered then, unable to go on.

 

“Your father…” Hunith prodded gently, placing another macaroon onto Arthur’s plate.

 

“He just, he was never proud of me. Or if he was, he never said.” Arthur swallowed. This next part was so hard. “And then, when I came out, he disowned me. Said he wouldn’t have a disgusting faggot as a son, and-and…” The rest of it wouldn’t come, and Arthur had to stop so he could breathe.

 

“Well, he’s an arsehole then.” Hunith said quite frankly, startling a laugh out of Arthur. But then she took his hands in hers, and they were small, so small, but strong, just like Merlin’s. And she lowered her face until Arthur was forced to meet her gaze.

 

“But any parent would look at you, look at the man you’ve become, and be proud to call you their own.” She smiled at him and her eyes were so warm and kind. “But that’s okay. I have plenty of room in my heart. There’s more than enough love there for another son. You can become one of mine.” And then she pulled Arthur into her arms and gently kissed his forehead. And through his tears, Arthur fell all the way in love.

 

***

 

Three days later, as they were leaving to catch their train, Hunith had pressed a tin into Arthur’s hands, matching the ones she had given to both Merlin and Will. “I’ll expect to see you every third week-end with these two, all right?” She had said, before she leaned in to kiss his cheek.

 

As he sat on the train, Merlin asleep next to him with his head on Arthur’s shoulder, he opened the tin and saw that it was filled with the coconut macaroons they had both shared together on that first day. Arthur knew for certain then that he had been adopted, and it was one of the best gifts he had ever been given. And he would never be able to thank Merlin enough. Arthur had been searching for Merlin, even if he hadn’t consciously known it. But Merlin, Merlin had been waiting for him and weaving a life he was now so generously wrapping around Arthur. He would never forget nor take that for granted.

 

***

 

And so, they started to blend their lives.

 

Arthur moved in the following week-end after that first visit to Hunith’s. He left most of his things in his old flat, but hired movers to transport a few items, including his entertainment center, coffee table, and his bed, which was bigger and better than Merlin’s. Merlin cleared out the second room in the upstairs loft area, which he had been using as a guest room, and let Arthur turn it into a home office. He also gave Arthur the keys and security codes to both the back entrance and roof, as well as to _Excalibur Ink_ itself. Arthur found that he liked stopping in the shop on the way home from work, where he chatted easily with Sefa, as well as slowly got to know the rest of the artists.

 

He got along surprisingly well with Will, who could be caustic and brash, but was also extremely intelligent and loyal to his friends. He was a talented artist in his own right, whose style was bolder than Merlin’s, but he had a brilliant sense of colour which he used in striking and unique ways. He could charge almost as much as Merlin, and the waiting time to get a session with him was nearly as long. He was also fiercely devoted to Merlin, and to the success of their business. As the summer slowly melted into autumn, Arthur would find himself sitting upstairs at the roof garden, arguing fiercely with Will, but laughing at the same time. And as he got to know him even better, Arthur found himself regretting that Will had never lived long enough to make his way to Camelot, where, Arthur was certain, he would have made an excellent knight. But Arthur was grateful for the chance to get to know him now, as he was quickly becoming one of Arthur’s closest friends.

 

He came to know the other artists as well. Freya had given him a shrewd once over, clicking her tongue over her teeth, before she had simply shrugged, said “whatever,” and then went back to work. She was sharp and sarcastic, but also funny in her own way once she decided to trust someone, and Arthur found himself liking her as well.  Gilli was quiet, but sincere. Ramya, who was an expert at working ink into darker skin tones, had a loud laugh and a carefree way about her. And Robbie, a huge Scotsman who had pictures of his husband and their lovely new baby girl posted all over the mirror of his station, seemed to have the most delicate touch out of all of them, and was quickly building up a reputation for his tattoos of lifelike laces and delicate fairies.

 

Arthur liked them all, and he could see why Merlin and Will had offered them chairs at _Excalibur Ink_. Saturday nights were quickly becoming his favourite night of week, where they would all gather in the little area Merlin and Will had set up to gossip and talk about their day.

 

But mostly, Arthur focused on Merlin.

 

In some ways, it was easy, and some, it was difficult. They were both very similar to who they had been, and also very different.

 

For one thing, Merlin was a vegetarian this time around. But he loved to cook, and was surprisingly good at it. Arthur quickly became accustomed to coming home to find a cooked meal waiting for him.  He would walk through the door and feed the Demons, who after a week had decided that Arthur was also their person, change his clothes and then search through the refrigerator for supper. He got used to eating filling stews, savoury pastas or delicious stir fries. Merlin would try to keep a half hour in his schedule open every evening when Arthur worked, so he could pop in and share a meal with Arthur, before heading back downstairs for a few more hours of tattooing. If Arthur wanted steak or chicken, he was free to make it for himself, but as Arthur had never really learned how to cook, he found himself eating meat at lunch, and enjoying his meals with Merlin.

 

Merlin was also less clumsy and had a love for exercise that he had never had back before in Camelot. On week-end mornings, he would go jogging with Arthur, and the two of them would find different parks throughout the city to explore. He also did tai-chi, and some of Arthur’s favourite moments were spent in the morning, sitting on the roof, watching Merlin move through the forms while he sipped at his coffee and pretended to read the _Financial Times._

 

Arthur had never been a morning person, and that still hadn’t changed. As his alarm went off every day at 6:30, he would grumble and then struggle to rise from the warm and comfortable nest of Inigo, Fezzik and Merlin that his bed had become. Merlin would mumble and roll back over, pulling the blankets over his head as Arthur stumbled into the shower.

 

But every morning, no matter what, when Arthur made his way downstairs, Merlin would be there, with a cup of coffee and breakfast waiting for him. Sometimes it was just toast with jam. But on some mornings, when Merlin knew Arthur had an important presentation or was meeting with a new client, there would be an omelet or French toast on the table. Arthur would sit and slowly eat his breakfast, taking it outside when the weather was nice, and begin to mentally prepare himself for the rest of the day. 

 

When he was done, Merlin would slip on a tee shirt and a pair of trainers, and then walk with Arthur to the Tube station. They were quiet, seldom saying a word to one another, but their company was enough. Once they got to the Tube, Merlin would kiss Arthur lightly on the cheek, and then turn and walk back home, where he would either go back to sleep, go for a run, or sometimes head into the shop to work on a client who had scheduled an early inking. Mrs. Potts, the older woman who ran the newspaper kiosk right outside the station, would always smile and wave at Arthur as he walked by, calling out “You got yourself a good one there, boyo! Cute too.” Arthur had blushed at first, but he quickly became used to it, and would just smile, wave back and answer “I know!”

 

Arthur was still bossy and demanding, and he was also still a bit of a slob. He would leave his dirty laundry all over the flat, much to Merlin’s chagrin, and he ignored Merlin when he complained about it.

 

Or at least he did until he woke one morning, the day of an important meeting, and found no breakfast waiting for him. And that Merlin had taken all of his shirts and decided to decorate them with rainbow smears of colour, or in the particular case of his favourite white one, the words _prat, clotpole_ and _dollophead_ in stark black lines. Arthur had to run out of the flat as early as possible, in order to pick up a new shirt that day, and then stop by the same shop that evening in order to pick up a dozen more.

 

Arthur learned to pick up his clothes after that. He hired a housekeeping service to come to the flat once a week to keep everything clean. He knew he was forgiven when he came home a week later to find a pair of trainers in his size at the foot of the bed. _Someone_ had painted a forest on each one, from which emerged a glorious brown steed, charging bravely forward. He had laughed in delight as he recognized his old mare Llamrei, slipping them on quickly before he made his way down to the studio to kiss his idiot stupid. (He kept the white shirt though, and had it framed, where it hung in a place of pride above their bed.)

 

Sex with Merlin was also unlike any sex he had had before, in either of his lives. Merlin was a wonderfully sensuous lover, who could in turns be soft and sensual, or aggressively filthy,  depending on their mood. He was wild and uninhibited and took great pleasure in making Arthur come, over and over and over again. He also had no shame, Arthur quickly learned five days after their first night together, once their test results had come in. He had bent Arthur over the kitchen table, and had pounded into him so hard that Arthur had bruises on his hips for days afterwards. Once he was done, he had pulled out and then knelt behind Arthur, where he proceeded to lap at his spend dripping out of Arthur’s body until his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he almost blacked out. (Three days later, Arthur had done the same to Merlin, using his fingers along with his tongue. Merlin had shivered and begged and twitched. And when the lamp next to the couch had exploded in a burst of sparks, Arthur thought it was a fair trade and congratulated himself on a job well done.)

 

So yeah, it was a life they were slowly building together. They still bickered and argued, but it was playful more than aggressive. But it grew stronger and stronger every day, which Arthur was grateful for, especially when things started to change.

 

***

 

The first being Sefa.

 

Three weeks after Arthur had first met Hunith, and two after he had finally moved into Merlin’s flat, Sefa had come upstairs one Thursday night while Merlin and Will were cleaning up their stations, with tears in her eyes. Arthur had been sitting on the couch, going over some paperwork from the office while he waited for the two of them to close up, and he saw the way both Merlin and Will had rushed over to her, their faces filled with concern.

 

“What’s the matter Sefa?” Merlin asked, reaching for her. “Why are you crying love? What’s wrong?”

 

“It’s my da,” Sefa sobbed, her voice trembling as she wiped at her eyes with a ratty tissue. “He’s really sick. Mum just called and told me.”

 

“Oh no love. That’s horrible.” Will said, turning to look for a paper towel, taking the one Arthur had already pulled from his station to hand to her. “What do you need?”

 

“I have to go home and help her. Stacey just started at uni, and mum’s all alone with him, and she needs help. And I don’t want to leave. I really don’t. I love it here, you know I do. And I know it’s short notice and I don’t want to leave you short. But it’s my da.” And Sefa burst into tears.

 

“Oh no no no no no,” Merlin said, pulling her into his arms. “Don’t you worry about that love. Don’t you worry. You go home and be with your family and help your mum with your da.”

 

“Where’s home?” Arthur asked Will sofly, watching as Merlin gently rubbed Sefa’s back as she sobbed against his chest.

 

“Birmingham.” Will answered quietly, reaching for another paper towel.

 

“Shite.” Arthur whispered, his heart aching. He adored Sefa, he really did. She was funny and charming, and he would miss her smiling face greeting him every evening when he came home from work. She had been so thrilled too, when she found out that Arthur and Merlin had started seeing each other, laughing that it was about time Merlin found someone who could put up with him and his crazy ways.

 

“Yeah,” Will sighed. “She’s been with us for years, and everyone just loves her. She’s a great shop manager too. The poor thing.” Sefa was slowly calming as they watched, her sobs dissolving into quiet hiccups as Merlin gently soothed her.

 

“Is there anything we can do?” Arthur asked as he approached them. “Anything at all that you need?” Sefa shook her head as she took another paper towel from Will’s outstretched hand, wiping at the smeared make up around her eyes.

 

“No,” she whispered shakily, dabbing at the tears on her face.

 

“When do you have to go?” Merlin asked.

 

“As soon as possible. The doctors want my da in for chemo before the end of the week.” She mumbled and then shook her head again. “I’m so sorry guys.” And she looked like she was about to burst into tears again.

 

“Hey hey hey. None of that. It’s all right. We understand. Of course we do.” Merlin soothed.

 

“And don’t you worry about a thing.” Will added, reaching out to gently rub her arm. “We’ll cover your pay until the end of the month too.”

 

“What? No!”

 

“Yes, and no arguments.” Will went on. “Pay until the end of the month, and we’ll cover your train ticket as well.”

 

“Sod that. I’ll pay for a car.” Arthur said.

 

“Perfect.” Merlin said, kissing Sefa’s forehead. “Who do we know that has a shop out there? Is it Pam?” Merlin asked Will.

 

“Yeah, Pam’s got one.” Will said. “Tony too. I’ll give them a ring tomorrow and see if they’re looking to hire somebody on, even part time.”

 

“No guys. That’s not necessary.” Sefa tried to interrupt.

 

“Hush. No arguments right?” Merlin told her. “What else? Is there anything else you need help with?”

 

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Sefa said, taking a step back and shaking her head. “It’s all just a big mess right now and I don’t know what to do. Shite! I’m going to have to pack up my half of the flat. Fuck, Julia’s going to kill me.”

 

“Don’t you worry about a thing Sefa,” Arthur said, feeling the king in him rise. “We’ll take care of everything. I’ll hire some movers, and they can deliver your stuff to your mum’s house, or we can put it in storage if you prefer. Or we can even make sure your rent is still paid, while you’re home with your family.”

 

“No, really. It’s too much guys. Really. I just…” She trailed off then, blowing her nose into the paper towel.

 

“Sefa,” Arthur said, coming to stand in front of her. “Let us help you. We’ve got the means, and your family needs you right now. Let us do this for you. We want to, okay?”

 

Merlin was looking at him gratefully, but Arthur’s focus was all on Sefa in that moment. Sefa was gazing at him as well, something small and helpless in her eyes, before she seemed to come back to herself, and straightened her shoulders before giving him a small, weak nod.

 

“Okay,” she said softly. “Okay. Thank you. You don’t have to, but it means so much that you will, and just…Thank you.”

 

“Is there anything you can do?” Arthur asked Merlin quietly, as they watched the taxi they had called for Sefa pull away from the kerb. “Anything at all?” Merlin sighed heavily and sadly shook his head.

 

“I can send energy their way, cast some spells to help with healing. But other than that,” at this Merlin swallowed and again shook his head. “You can’t mess with life and death like that. If it’s his time, trying to stop it will just mess up the balance. And the cost is too high. It’s always too high. You, out of anyone, should remember that.” There was no accusation in Merlin’s voice, just a heavy weight as if he wished it weren’t true, but knew better than to try.

 

“Yeah, I know.” Arthur said as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

 

“Fucking sucks though.” Will said. And no one disagreed with him.

 

***

 

In the end, they decided to hire Gwaine. He had no experience running a tattoo shop, but he did have experience as a shift manager at a nearby gym, which was where he had met Sefa in the first place, when she had come to take one of the self-defense classes for women that he taught. But he was a fast learner, and Arthur knew no one would be as devoted to Merlin and _Excalibur Ink_ as Gwaine, so he thought it was a good choice.

 

Gwaine proved to be a remarkably quick study. For the first two weeks after he had been hired, Arthur would come home to find either Merlin or Will with Gwaine, carefully explaining to him the ins and outs of running a tattoo parlour. Gwaine learned how to manage the appointments, and keep track of supplies. After a few days, he seemed to master the bookkeeping software and was handling all of the invoicing as well. While everyone missed and worried after Sefa, Gwaine was as charming and easy going in his own way, and both the artists and the customers grew to first like and then accept him as one of their own.

 

As for Gwaine himself, Arthur was amazed at how easily he took to running the shop. Arthur had always thought of Gwaine as a bit of a lost soul. He had dropped out of uni after two years, and had never been able to stick to any job for a long period of time. He was smart, and had a great way with people. But for some reason, nothing ever seemed to be a good fit. (Arthur understood that a lot better now that he remembered their past together.) But Gwaine loved working with Merlin and Will, and something about _Excalibur Ink_ seemed to settle him. He had a talent for chatting with the clients, soothing the nervous ones, and sharing his own tattoo experience with those who kept returning. And within a few weeks he became an expert at matching any new customers with the artists best suited to what they were looking for. He was fiercely protective of Merlin and Will’s schedules, and great at diffusing any trouble that walked in, long before it even had a chance to start (usually in the form of pissed uni students, travelling in packs, who thought they could bully their way into a tattoo.)

 

He got along great with Will, and Merlin _loved_ having him there. Arthur understood. He was one of theirs after all, and there was something immensely satisfying in being able to keep him close, knowing he was safe as they watched him come into his own.

 

Which was vital. Because Arthur and Merlin still had some important decisions to face, and having Gwaine there to provide his opinion and feedback helped make the process easier.

 

***

 

They decided that Merlin would tattoo Percy first.

 

Merlin had been hesitant initially, claiming he didn’t want to disrupt anyone’s life if they were happy now. But Arthur and Gwaine had persisted, and even Will had chimed in at the end, claiming that it hadn’t changed his life, just given him a different perspective, one that had made so many things make that much more sense.

 

“Besides,” Will had argued. “It didn’t change me Merls. Afterward I just felt like I had gotten back something I had lost. Something important that I didn’t know I was missing until I had it again. And I don’t regret it. You know, if you were ever wondering or anything.”

 

They had stared at each other, communicating in that way that only brothers could, before Merlin had smiled a small, relieved smile, and murmured “Thanks for that, Will.”

 

“Ta, mate.” Will had said, going back to eating the rest of his crisps.

 

Merlin was still hesitant, but Gwaine kept asking, pleading with him. And Merlin loved Gwaine, as much as he loved Arthur and Will, if in a different way. So in the end, he agreed.

 

It was surprisingly easy to convince Percy to come in for a tattoo. Everyone had been impressed with Gwaine’s artwork, and their reactions had been even more breathless when Arthur had shown them his dragon. And once they had met Merlin, finding out he was the artist who had worked on both Arthur and Gwaine, and who he was now in Arthur’s life, they accepted him into their circle with a stunning ease, and asked him all sorts of questions about his work, and how he had gotten into it. No one seemed to notice or question the way Merlin so easily fit into their lives. If anything, there had been a quiet relief, as if a missing puzzle piece had finally been found. The only one who seemed to have any problems with Merlin was Morgana. She scoffed when Arthur told everyone he had started dating his tattoo artist, and then sneered at Arthur that first night when he finally brought Merlin around to meet everyone.

 

_“Really Arthur?” She had asked, raising an imperious eyebrow at him. “If it was just a bit of rough trade you were looking for, you could have simply paid for it. You didn’t have to move in together, you know.”_

_Arthur had felt a sudden rage rising from deep within him, because how dare she. Whatever her reasons, whether she thought Merlin was beneath their social status, or just still angry because of what had happened between him and Gwen, she had no right to talk about Merlin like that._

_But Merlin, who had been standing behind Arthur, gently squeezed his arm, and then slowly stepped forward. There had been something in his movements then, something ancient and foreboding, as he moved around Arthur and held out his hand._

_“Hello. You must be Arthur’s sister, Morgana. Arthur’s told me so much about you, and I have to admit, I’ve been just dying to meet you.” There was an undercurrent in his voice, a tone that was dark and powerful, indomitable and confident, and Arthur had been surprised to find himself growing hard at just the sound of it. And when Morgana, who had never backed away from anything in her life, had gotten her first glance at Merlin, she had actually blanched and taken a step back._

_“It’s nice to meet you Merlin.” She had mumbled, her fingers limp as she reached out and quickly shook Merlin’s hand._

_“Yes, you too Morgana.” Merlin had responded with a sharp and foxlike grin. “I’ll expect you’ll be seeing a lot of me around from now on.” Morgana had quickly nodded, turned away, and then proceeded to avoid Merlin for the rest of the night. Behind him, Arthur could practically hear Gwaine humming in contentment._

_And Elena, who Morgana seemed to take great pleasure in teasing about her clumsiness and social awkwardness, and who had been watching the entire exchange as avidly as everyone else, looked at Merlin again and then burst out with “Holy shite Arthur! He’s fucking hot!” Merlin turned to face her, and when he saw who had spoken, his face broke into his usual smile, warm and welcoming and oh so very kind._

_“Hello,” he said, holding out his hand again. “You must be Elena. I’m so happy to meet you.” Elena had risen from her seat, and reached over the table to take Merlin’s hand in both of hers._

_“I am, I am.” She chirped. “And come on, come on, you have to sit by me. Arthur’s been telling us all about you, and I’ve been dying to meet you. I’ve never met a tattoo artist before. What’s it like? Do you have to tattoo people in weird places? Does anyone ever fart while you’re working on them?” Just like that, the tension was broken, and everyone else started chiming in with their questions. And within an hour, it was as if Merlin had always been one of them._

 

***

 

So Percy was first.

 

Gwaine led him to the upstairs studio one Saturday night not too long after that, where Merlin and Arthur were waiting for him. Arthur sat on the massage table by Will’s station while Will cleaned up after his last client of the day, and watched as Merlin spoke quietly to Percy, asking what he was interested in getting tattooed and where, answering all of Percy’s questions. Percy seemed both calm and excited to be getting inked by Merlin, slowly taking off his shirt as Gwaine hovered nervously nearby. They decided on a mountainscape, a thick band that would wrap around Percy’s upper right arm. Merlin explained about the endorphins and just letting go as he cleaned and shaved Percy’s bicep. And then he smiled at Percy, bent over and went to work.

 

In the end, it took three hours. Arthur was used to watching Merlin tattoo by now, and he was more than familiar with the trancelike state Merlin seemed to enter whenever he was deep in the zone of his art. But neither he, nor Gwaine, who was sitting next to Arthur, had ever witnessed Merlin working when his magic kicked in. And this was the first time Merlin was using it deliberately as he dipped his needles in the ink and then ran them over Percy’s skin. His eyes glowed softly, and his body moved with a grace and purpose that Arthur had never seen, even from the most well-trained of his knights. The air felt quiet but alive, and Arthur could actually feel the kiss of Merlin’s magic on his back as he worked. Even Will, who had both observed and experienced this before, seemed fascinated, never taking his eyes from Merlin as he added layer upon layer of colour and shading to Percy’s bicep. It was one of the most beautiful and breathtaking things Arthur had ever witnessed, and it seemed as if even the air grew still with waiting.

 

Until finally, finally, the buzzing of Merlin’s gun stopped, he sighed and then slowly pushed his chair back.

 

“It’s done,” he said softly, and placed his gun gently on the table by his station. “How are you doing Percy? How does it feel?”

 

Percy, who Merlin had sat in the same massage chair Arthur had been in during his first session, was quiet. For the first few seconds he didn’t move, until he suddenly took a deep, gasping breath, and then leaned back, looking around the room at everyone with wide, stunned eyes.

 

“Perce? You all right?” Gwaine asked, getting up from Will’s table and heading over to him.

 

“Wha-? What the fuck was that?” Percy’s voice was hoarse as he spoke, and Arthur remembered feeling the same way after his first session, the dryness in his throat, the confusion as he tried to resituate himself in a time that suddenly seemed wrong. Merlin, who was certain that he would only need one session to awaken Percy’s memories now that he knew what he was doing and could do it intentionally, was looking at Percy with concern.

 

“Give it a second,” Arthur said, as he came over to lay a steadying hand on Percy’s shoulder while Gwaine handed him an opened sports drink. “Just let it settle, yeah.”

 

“Ar- _Arthur?_ ” Percy looked at him with eyes wide in both shock and recognition. “ _Merlin?...Gwaine?_ ” He was then scrambling to get out of the chair, his knees wobbling as he started to heave in deep, gasping breaths.

 

“Woah, woah, woah there mate.” Will said, coming over to Merlin, helping him as they both lowered Percy back into the chair. He pressed his hand to the back of Percy’s shoulders and urged him to lean over. “Head between your knees. Take deep, slow breaths. In and out. One after the other, that’s it. Nice and slow. Some blokes get a bit dizzy after a session. That’s normal. It’ll pass. Just give it a mo’.” Arthur had stepped back when Will had come over. This was his and Merlin’s area of expertise after all, and they knew better than anyone how to deal with it. Gwaine was looking on in concern, shifting his weight anxiously from foot to foot as Will and Merlin knelt in front of Percy, talking to him softly, urging him to continue breathing.

 

_“I’m not dizzy!”_ Percy hissed, through gritted teeth.

 

“No, you’re not.” Will said. “But every single one of us in this room has been through what you’re going through right now. Trust me. You’ll be all right. Just let it settle.”

 

It took a few moments, but both Will and Merlin were steadfast and calm, waving at Gwaine and Arthur to step back and give Percy some space, while they continued to reassure him, telling him to focus on his breathing. Eventually, Percy took a final, deep breath and lifted his head, looking around.

 

“I’m all right.” He mumbled, looking around him again with eyes that were still wide, but not as fearful as they had been before.

 

“Drink this,” Merlin said, handing him the plastic bottle. Percy took one, slow hesitant sip, and then his body seemed to come alive, and he finished the rest of the contents in three desperate gulps.

 

“Hey Percy.” Arthur said, coming to kneel in front of him as Merlin started to gather all of things he would need for the wrap up. “How are you feeling?” Percy stared at him for a long time, his eyes flickering back and forth as he tried to reconcile the Arthur in front of him to the Arthur he was now suddenly remembering. He glanced around the room again, shook his head, and then looked at Arthur once more.

 

_“Arthur.”_ He said. And in his voice was all the reverence, respect and comradery of a thousand years.

 

“Welcome back, Sir Percival.” Arthur said, rising up to kiss his forehead gently. “It’s good to see you again.”

 

It was then that Gwaine took a slow, hesitant step forward into Percy’s line of sight, waiting for Percy to lift his eyes.

 

“Hiya Perce.” He said quietly, looking so hopeful and eager as he met Percy’s gaze.

 

Percy stared at him, studying, squinting his eyes, until he frowned and yelled “ _Gwaine! You fucking arsehole!_ ”

 

“Oh yeah,” Merlin said, laughing quietly. “He remembers everything now.”

 

“Are you sure?” Will asked. “Cos the fucker’s still an arsehole. How can he tell the difference?”

 

***

 

Percy had wanted to go home straight after that, no matter how desperately Arthur or Merlin urged him to stay and talk. He barely paid attention to any of the aftercare instructions Merlin provided, and did not seem to care about the five inch band of forested mountains that now wrapped around his arm. Merlin’s work had been as amazing as it ever was, and he had coloured Percy’s skin in lush greens and rich browns that rose up into sharp, strong, steady peaks, the tops of which were kissed with the golden honey of a sunrise. Percy had always been the strongest and steadiest of Arthur’s knights, and Arthur thought the image of everlasting mountains was perfect. But Percy was hardly interested and had just wanted to go home.

 

Gwaine had insisted on going with him, to make sure that Percy was all right, and the two of them left together not long after that.

 

Two days later, Gwaine showed up to open _Excalibur Ink_ with a black eye.

 

“Oh no, Gwaine.” Merlin said sadly, going over to him. Arthur, who had decided to go into work late to see how everything was going, took one look at Gwaine’s forlorn expression and sighed.

 

“Not going well then?” He asked, as Merlin pushed Gwaine to sit on the couch in the waiting area while he fussed over him.

 

“No,” Gwaine mumbled. “Not going well at all. He’s right pissed at me, he is.”

 

“Bollocks.” Arthur said, shaking his head.

 

“You just have to give him some time to get used to the idea, that’s all.” Merlin assured him. “It took me months before I could admit what was going on. He’ll come around, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Gwaine had sighed, but he looked so hopeless and lost as he sat there, that Arthur wondered if their decision had been a mistake.

 

***

 

Three nights later, Arthur was downstairs watching Ramya work while Merlin stood by the counter, talking to a long-time customer who was also a friend, when Percy stormed in through the front door.

 

“ _Gwaine!_ ” He shouted, heading straight towards the counter where Gwaine was perched on his stool. “ _You fucking arsehole!_ ”

 

“Uh, hey Perce.” Gwaine stammered, cautiously sliding off of his stool and moving to back away. Merlin had turned to Percy, and Arthur was already moving to intercept their bear of a friend, when Percy reached over the counter, grabbed Gwaine by the neck of his tee-shirt and yanked, pulling him in for a long, deep kiss.

 

Gwaine had frozen in shock, but only for a second, before he was wrapping his arms around Percy, and kissing him back.

 

“Heya Percy.” Gwaine said softly when they finally broke apart. But his eyes were filled with warmth and delight. And then he tightened his arms, leaned forward and kissed Percy again.

 

The entire shop, customers and all, broke into applause.

 

***

 

Leon was next.

 

He came to the shop a few weeks later, looking around curiously. He had the same reaction as Arthur did to the artwork on the ceiling, and talked easily with Merlin about what to expect while he was being worked on. Percy was there this time as well, sitting on the couch where Gwaine had curled into his lap like a large, luxurious cat, practically purring under his fingers while Percy ran them through his hair. If anyone was surprised by this latest change in Percy and Gwaine’s lives, they weren’t saying, and had seemed to accept it as if it had always been inevitable. Leon merely rolled his eyes at the two of them, shook his head, and then started to remove his shirt.

 

Leon’s tattoo took four hours. Merlin had decided to draw a ship sailing through storm tossed seas, which Merlin had explained was because Leon had always been steadfast and true, calm even in the stormiest of waters. Leon had been a bit bemused at Merlin’s explanation, but seemed to accept Merlin’s reasoning as he lied down and bared his back to Merlin’s needles.

 

They had all watched in fascination as Merlin worked. Even Percy, who Gwaine had been right about when he said he knew about Merlin’s magic. It was humbling to watch, the care and precision Merlin took as he worked, and Leon seemed to sink deeper and deeper into the table as the session progressed.

 

He was silent when Merlin finally finished. And when Merlin, and then Arthur, asked if he was all right, he merely nodded, looking around at all of them with a strange expression of wariness and suspicion on his face. He didn’t want to talk, and he didn’t even want to see the finished tattoo. He just nodded again and again as Merlin wrapped him up and explained the aftercare, and then left without a word, or looking back.

 

He didn’t respond to any of their calls or texts that night, and Arthur was determined to go to his flat and check on him.

 

He found him slumped against the back door of Merlin’s building the next morning when he left, more pissed than Arthur had ever seen him, and smelling of a brewery.

 

He looked up with glazed, bloodshot eyes when he heard the door open and croaked  “Arthur… _Arthur!_ ”

 

“All right, all right, let’s get you upstairs and get some coffee into you.” Arthur said, as he heaved him to his feet, draping his arm over his shoulder.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Arthur.” He mumbled as Arthur struggled to get him up the stairs. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Arthur said, as he slid his key into the lock. Merlin was already by the door when Arthur at last managed to get it open. It was then that Leon managed to finally lift his head from Arthur’s shoulder and glare blearily at Merlin.

 

Merlin took one look at his face, stepped back while lifting his hands, and blurted “It’s all Gwaine’s fault!”

 

Arthur burst into laughter.

 

Later, after they had gotten some coffee and food into Leon, convinced him to take a shower, and then to let Merlin look at his tattoo, Merlin had pulled Arthur aside and whispered “Do you think he’s going to be all right?”

 

It was right at that moment they both heard Leon’s voice shouting from the back of the flat into his mobile “ _Gwaine! You fucking arsehole!_ ”

 

“Yeah Merlin,” Arthur had laughed, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. “Our Leon’s going to be just fine.”

 

***

 

And then it was Lance’s turn.

 

Lance wasn’t stupid, and he had noticed, if not commented on, the changes in both Percy and Leon since they had gotten their tattoos. He had obviously figured out that there was something going on, so he was curious and eager as he followed Gwaine upstairs. Everyone was already there waiting, including Will, who was sitting on the couch talking to Percy.

 

They had become good friends, those two. And now that Percy and Gwaine were living together, Percy spent as much of his free time in the shop as he could. He was the quietest among them, and he always seemed drawn to those who were much more outgoing than he was. Will was easygoing and brash, but he was also the one who was most used to Merlin and his magic. And he had been there that night when Percy had gotten tattooed. Percy had been grateful for his calming words and then subsequent advice, and that gratefulness had quickly turned into what was becoming a solid friendship. While still steadfastly loyal to Arthur, Percy seemed the most content when either with Gwaine, Merlin or Will. And the bright colours and energy of the parlour seemed to appeal to something quiet within him.

 

Arthur totally understood.

 

So it was the sound of Percy’s soft laughter that greeted Lance as he walked through the red curtained door with Gwaine. Like everyone else who walked through the studio, he took a careful look around and then, seeming to find something satisfying in the walls around him, smiled.

 

“Heya Lance,” Merlin said as he hopped off the massage table by his station. “Ready to get worked on?”

 

“Yeah,” Lance said, shrugging off his coat. “What do you need from me?”

 

“Well come on over here and sit with me for a minute, and we can talk about what you’re interested and where we’re going to put it.” Merlin said, as Arthur took Lance’s coat and hung it on the coat stand by the couch.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Lance was lying on his back on the massage table, while Merlin carefully shaved his chest. They had decided on a running wolf, to be placed on Lance’s right pectoral.

 

“That’s a good choice.” Merlin had nodded. “Wolves are intelligent, fierce creatures. But also extremely loyal and protective of their packs. It’s going to really suit you, I think.” And then Merlin gave Lance’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and began to work.

 

It took four and a half hours to complete, during which Merlin was mostly silent, only murmuring an occasional “How are you holding up there Lance? Doing all right?” The more he worked at consciously combining both his magic and his art, the more confident he seemed to grow. His hands flew over Lance’s skin, and the inks practically leapt from their cups to meet the tips of his needles as he needed them.

 

“Does it always look like that when he works?” Leon had whispered a few hours in. “It’s…It’s quite stunning actually.” He was as fascinated as everyone else, as they all sat there and quietly watched.

 

“Yeah,” Will answered with a small smile. “You’ve got to remember, Merlin is a master at what he does. I’m a great artist, yeah. But Merls, he’s always been brilliant at it. We’ve had quite a few young artists come in and ask for an apprenticeship with Merlin, but he’s never taken anyone on. Says he can’t really explain how he does it, it just flows from him. And now that he knows about his, well, you know, he’s gotten even better, if that were possible.”

 

“Four month waiting period now.” Gwaine added.

 

“Well, it’s a good thing we’ve got an in then, yeah?” Leon said, smiling at Arthur. “Although I’m not sure how grateful Lance is going to be when he finally sees the bill.” Arthur laughed at that. He had actually paid for Percy and Leon’s tattoos, despite Merlin’s protests, arguing that no matter what the outcome, Merlin _was_ a master, and deserved to be paid for his time and talent.

 

But Lance, he took it like he did everything else in his life. With a quiet balance and equanimity. When Merlin finally sighed, rolled his chair back and then leaned over Lance to ask “It’s done. How are you doing?” Lance merely took a deep, steadying breath and looked around. Will was already making his way over to them; he seemed to have the touch when it came to settling someone after a session with Merlin, and Lance gratefully accepted both his and Merlin’s help as he slowly sat up.

 

“Drink this, yeah. Nice and slow.” Will told him, handing him a sports drink. Lance took several long, even sips, before he lowered the bottle and then looked around him again, his gaze coming to rest on Arthur.

 

“ _Your highness_ ,” he gasped, rising from the table with shaky steps.

 

“Hello, Sir Lancelot. It is _so good_ to see you again.” Arthur said, reaching out steadying hands to lay them upon Lance’s shoulder.

 

“Oh my god, your highness. I should have known.” Lance said, and there were tears in his eyes. Arthur pulled him into his arms, and embraced him tightly, while the others slowly gathered around them to lay comforting slaps to Lance’s back.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Will grumbled. “For a bunch of blokes who used to be bloody knights of the round table, they all end up crying like a bunch of pussies in the end.”

 

“I dare you to say that to Freya’s face.” Merlin retorted. “In fact, I’ll give you a fiver if you do.”

 

“I’ll take that fiver mate.” Will answered. “And then I’ll use it to call Mum to tell her about what you asked Freya to do to your dick.” Freya was also the shop’s piercer, and she had been the one to give Merlin his _apradravya_.

 

“That’s just because you chickened out at the end, you tosser.”

 

“Oh my god,” Lance snorted quietly through his tears. “Are they always like this?”

 

“They’re usually worse.” Arthur said as he ran a soothing hand over Lance’s hair.

 

And then Gwaine, who had been holding the two of them in his strong arms, lifted his head, stepped back and asked “Wait? What did Freya do to Merlin’s dick? And can I see it?”

 

“For fuck’s sake Gwaine!” Arthur said. “No you can’t, you fucking arsehole!”

 

Hearing that, Lance tossed his head back and laughed and laughed and laughed.

 

***

 

And then finally, it was Elyan’s turn.

 

Elyan was the only one out of all of them who had already had a tattoo before Gwaine first went to Merlin. He had been the most impressed with Gwaine’s work, and was excited to get a second one. But he was also cunning and sharp, and he too knew that something was going on. But he shrugged it off and then spoke eagerly to Merlin about what he was interested in, and how Merlin would work with the coloured inks, always a bit tricky when working on someone with a darker skin tone.

 

“I mix all of my own inks, yeah.” Merlin told him as he had Elyan lay on his table so he could start shaving his back. They had decided on a sword that would run down the line of Elyan’s spine, and Merlin had promised him he would be able to get the silver and gleam of it perfect. “And I’ve learned quite a bit from Ramya downstairs.” Arthur liked that about Merlin, how he was always confident in his own skills, but also eager to learn something new from someone else. When he wasn’t upstairs working on his own clients, Arthur would often find him in the downstairs studio, watching the other artists work, where he would offer tips and advice, but also asked questions of his own when he was impressed by what they were doing. He told Arthur it helped to keep his style fresh, and he liked the challenge of trying to incorporate some of their techniques into his own.

 

“You ready, Elyan?” Merlin was asking now, as he finished filling his little cups with their inks. Elyan nodded, and Merlin started to work.

 

Elyan’s tattoo actually took longer than everyone else’s, except for Arthur’s, as Merlin had to carefully re-ink certain areas of his skin several times to get the hues he wanted. They were all there again, except for Will, who was meeting a friend who had come in from out of town for dinner. But Gwaine was there, and he was experienced enough with the shop by now to provide Merlin with anything he may have needed while he worked.

 

It took five and a half hours to complete the blade, which was an exact match to the one Elyan had carried all of those centuries ago. As Arthur watched the work unfold, the sword a gleaming band of silver, just like Merlin had promised, he thought it was one of the most striking tattoos he had ever seen.

 

Elyan was perfectly still when Merlin finished, not saying a word as Merlin pushed his chair back and took the paper towel Gwaine held out for him.

 

“Are you all right Elyan?” Arthur asked as he approached the table.

 

Elyan slowly lifted his head, squinting against the bright lights, looked around him, and when he saw Merlin and Gwaine standing over him, he glared.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He growled through his teeth.

 

“Oh look,” Merlin said, pushing his chair even farther back, snapping off his gloves as he quickly rose to his feet. “Will’s here. He can handle the aftercare, can’t you Will? Ta, mate!” And then he and Gwaine both ran out of the shop as if their arses were on fire.

 

Will, who had just walked through the glass door, took one look at Merlin and Gwaine’s fleeing forms, then at everyone who was gathered in the studio and yelled “Oi! Another fucking one! Are you fucking serious?”

 

Lance and Leon were leaning over Elyan, helping him to slowly sit up while Will stomped over to Merlin’s station and began to look for a set of latex gloves. Arthur would go to Elyan in a moment, but first he pulled his mobile out of his pocket, and dialed Merlin’s number.

 

“If you are going out for a smoke Merlin, you can have one, _just one_.” He said when Merlin finally picked up after the third ring. “And if you are going to get something to eat, stop by the _Golden Palace_ and pick up an extra order of garlic shrimp. It’s Elyan’s favourite. Gwaine knows what everyone else likes.”

 

Forty minutes later, Gwaine and Merlin returned, sheepish smiles on their faces and their arms laden with take away bags. Will was cursing Merlin as he walked in, but seemed to forgive him when Merlin assured him that he had ordered extra spring rolls just for him. When Arthur went over to kiss him, Merlin’s lips tasted of peppermint, so he knew that Merlin had smoked more than one cigarette while he was out. But since Merlin had also picked up an extra order of fried pork dumplings just for Arthur, Arthur decided he could forgive him.

 

***

 

And so their lives went on.

 

Everyone seemed to calmly settle in their skins as they came to accept their new awareness of who they had once been and the lives they had already shared. In truth, it seemed to bring them even closer, which Arthur found deeply satisfying, even if he wondered at it sometimes.

 

“It makes sense though.” Lance said when he mentioned it aloud. They were all gathered in the upstairs waiting area of _Excalibur Ink_ , which seemed to have become their favourite gathering place. Both Merlin and Will had grumbled about it a bit at first, Will even going so far as to say that they needed to start charging rent. He had been working on June again at the time, who had come back to have a poppy tattooed on her inguinal crease, for her seventh grandchild. She had tutted at his words and told him to hush.

 

_“It never hurts to have something nice to look at while you’re being worked on. It’s like a studlier version of One Direction. I like it.” Will had started choking so hard he had to sit back so he didn’t ruin his work, Leon had blushed, and Merlin, who had just finished working on a client of his own and was cleaning up his station, had cackled._

_“I couldn’t agree more June,” he had said, reaching for a packet of crisps. Arthur didn’t even bother looking up from the contract he had been reviewing and merely cleared his throat, sharply. “Bossy prat,” Merlin had muttered, but then he was sheepishly putting down the packet and moving to the small refrigerator in the corner, where Arthur had replaced all of his custard creams and sodas with yoghurts, sliced vegetables, hummus, and fruit juices. Arthur had nodded in approval, and then made a final notation on the contract._

 

They had come to an agreement after that. Arthur and his friends were welcome at _Excalibur Ink_ as long as they remembered the fact that it was place of business. They had to get up and make room for any customers or friends they had brought to support them while they were being worked on, and there was to be no food, and especially no alcohol, during business hours. But other than that, as long as they were quiet and respectful, they could make the upstairs couch and chairs their new round table, which they seemed to prefer, even if Arthur had an actual round table in the conference room at his offices.

 

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked now.

 

“You’ve always been our leader Arthur.” Lance went on. “And we’ve always trusted your decisions. Why do you think so many of us left Pendragons to follow you when you started _Camelot Consulting_. We knew you would make it work. And we were right to follow you.”

 

“There’s no place I would rather be.” Leon added. “And no one I would rather follow.” Elyan had nodded in agreement, and that, it seemed, was that.

 

So they lived their lives. Arthur was still bossy and demanding, but he also liked to look after those he viewed as his. A week after that conversation, he had sat down with Will and Merlin, and gone over the books of their shop. _Excalibur Ink_ was extremely profitable, especially with the rates both Merlin and Will could charge. But Arthur wanted to make sure their little kingdom was safe, so he took a look at their finances, and suggested a few adjustments to ease their tax burdens, as well as provided them with investment options for their future, including setting up voluntary pension plans for the artists downstairs. Everyone in the parlour worked hard, Arthur had told them, and this just gave them all a little extra security, and a reason to work even harder. Merlin and Will had listened to him, carefully considering his suggestions, and then asked for Arthur’s guidance in helping to set everything up. The response had been overwhelmingly positive, and Will had thanked him with a clap to the shoulder, and Merlin with a long, slow blowjob on his table after everyone had gone home, health regulations be damned.

 

So they lived, and they worked. Merlin cooked, but Arthur looked after his health. Will joined Arthur and his mates for their Sunday footie matches, while Merlin sat by and sketched them as they played. (He had started out doing his tai-chi at first, but Arthur quickly put a stop to that after Gwaine had been so distracted by him that he crashed into the same tree three times.) They jogged together in the mornings, did the grocery shopping and visited Hunith on the third week-end of every month. Arthur was fiercely protective of Merlin, even more so than he had been in their previous lives, but Merlin was just as protective of Arthur. When he thought Arthur was working too hard or too long, he had no problems with walking into his offices, and sitting on Arthur’s desk until Arthur would finally turn off his computer and gladly follow Merlin home. George had been a bit nonplussed when he had first seen Merlin, but once he realised that it was due to Merlin that he was now able to leave each night at a reasonable hour, he would wave him through to Arthur’s office with a smile. Leon had even taken to calling Merlin when he thought Arthur was starting to become unreasonable, just so that they could all get a break.

 

It was a life, and it was theirs. They bickered and they picked at each other, but they seldom, if ever, truly fought. In fact, they only had one major fight between them during those first months.

 

And to Arthur’s surprise, it ended up being about Gwen.

 

***

 

After the success of everyone else’s tattoos, Arthur decided that it was finally time to tattoo Gwen. She was the only one of their original circle left after all, and Arthur thought it was time to bring her back into the fold.

 

To his shock, Merlin had refused.

 

“I won’t do it Arthur,” Merlin said flatly, crossing his arms.

 

“What? Why?” Arthur asked. “She’s the last one left. Why wouldn’t you?”

 

“You don’t even know if she wants a tattoo.” Merlin countered.

 

“Well, she’s seen the work you’ve done on everyone else, and she’s loved it. I’m sure we can convince her.”

 

“Well, even if you do convince her to get one, she can go to Ramya downstairs. I won’t do it.”

 

“Why?” Arthur persisted. “She’s our Gwen, Merlin. Our Queen Guinevere.”

 

“Exactly! And I won’t do it!”

 

It had degraded into a shouting match after that, with Merlin refusing to even consider working on Gwen, no matter how much Arthur argued for it. And in the end, Merlin had ended up storming out, slamming the door to the flat behind him.

 

He didn’t come home that night. Nor did he pick up his phone or respond to any of the texts Arthur had sent him.

 

“I just don’t get it,” Arthur said over his pint the next evening, as they all sat in their former local, which they hadn’t visited in weeks. “They were such good friends. Why wouldn’t he want to do it? She’s one of us.”

 

Gwaine gave him a long, steady look, and then snorted.

 

“That’s because you’re a fucking idiot Arthur.” He said lowly. And Arthur thought that of course Gwaine would take Merlin’s side. He was closer to Merlin than anyone else, and just as protective of him as Arthur was, if in his own way.

 

“Me? Why me? He’s the one who’s refusing to even consider doing it.” Arthur retorted. “Why am I the idiot?”

 

“Did you even give him a choice? Or did you just decide that this was what he was going to do, without even discussing it with him first?” Gwaine would not back down.

 

“Of course I tried to discuss it with him. That’s the problem. He just refused.” Arthur said. “And I don’t understand why. He had no problem doing it for everyone else.”

 

At this, Gwaine lowered his drink, and leaned over the table to look Arthur directly in the eye.

 

“Of course he didn’t. But then, you weren’t asking him to wake up the memories of _your wife._ ”

 

“What? No. That’s not what I’m doing. And it shouldn’t make a difference now. Hello, I’m gay Gwaine. And Merlin knows I’m with him.” Arthur countered in disbelief.

 

“And how do you think Gwen’s going to react when Merlin’s finished and she gets all of her memories back, and sees you standing there. Not just you, but the husband she lost in battle over a thousand years ago?” Gwaine persisted.

 

“But we’re not together now Gwaine. We haven’t been for years. And again, hello, gay.” Everyone else at the table was silent, watching the two of them as they went back and forth.

 

“But you were engaged to her in this life as well, and Merlin knows that. And in both cases, she’s still an ex. That’s not something anyone wants to deal with. I mean, I liked Peggy, I really did,” Gwaine said, referencing Percy’s ex-wife. Percy was the only one out of all of them who had been married. But Peggy, while a sweet woman, had been more in love with the idea of being married to a fireman, than dealing with the actual reality of living with someone who had such a stressful and dangerous job. They had divorced within a year. “But do you think it doesn’t bother me whenever she calls Percy up and asks for something?”

 

“It does?” Percy asked, sounding shocked.

 

“Yeah, it does.” Gwaine told him. “Really Percy, you’ve been divorced for years. Why you have to be the one she calls whenever her faucet is leaking or her car won’t start is beyond me. But that’s not what we’re talking about. We’re talking about Merlin and Arthur and how Arthur is being a selfish bastard.”

 

“I am not!” Arthur almost shouted.

 

“Yes you are.” Gwaine sneered.

 

“They were friends Gwaine. Best of friends. Why wouldn’t he want that back?”

 

“Yes, they were.” Gwaine said. “But then you married her. And she became queen. And no matter how kind Gwen was as queen, and she was a wonderful queen, I’ll give you that, she was still queen. She may have acted like nothing had changed, but everything did. He could have been put in the dungeons on her word alone. Because you chose her over him. And now you want to do that to him again?”

 

“But she wouldn’t have! And that’s not what I’m doing!”

 

“I hate to break it to you Arthur, because you were a great king, but Merlin was right about you. You could be a bit of a tosser.” Gwaine was being relentless. “And in case you didn’t realise, Merlin’s not your servant this time around. He’s your partner. You don’t just get to tell him what to do and expect him to do it because you said so. It’s his shop, and his magic, and if he doesn’t want to tattoo Gwen, you don’t get to make that decision for him.” With that, Gwaine sat back in his seat, picked up his pint, and took a long sip. Arthur was speechless, thinking over Gwaine’s words, disagreeing with a lot of them, but still being able to see some of Gwaine’s points.

 

“But they were such good friends.” Arthur said finally, in a quiet voice.

 

“They were. But that doesn’t mean they have to be in this life as well.” Gwaine said. “And no matter who or what Merlin is, he’s still _human_ Arthur. He gets to be petty and jealous sometimes. He doesn’t have to swallow it just because you have other ideas. And he’s still a better person than the lot of us combined.”

 

No one else said a word, and Arthur was left to play with his damp beer mat as he took everything Gwaine had said into consideration. After a few moments of the heavy quiet, it was Lance who broke the silence.

 

“Quite honestly, I wouldn’t mind it if Gwen never remembered either. And maybe that makes me a bad person, but she’s _mine_ this time around. I’d love to keep it that way.” The words were surprising from Lance, who had always been the most honourable person Arthur had ever known. But then again, Lance had once had to watch the love of his life marry another, just like Merlin had. And if he wanted to be selfish about it, then, just like Gwaine had said, that was okay too. They were all only human after all, and hopefully, this time they could avoid making the same mistakes they had made the last time.

 

When Arthur left the pub that night, it was with a heavy heart and a lot on his mind. Merlin didn’t come home. And the next morning when Arthur woke, there was no breakfast, and no one to walk him to the Tube and kiss him goodbye.

 

_Come home._ He texted Merlin as he made his way into the station. And then again at lunch. And once more before dinner.

 

When Merlin finally did, it was as Arthur was finishing his meal. Arthur heard the key turning in the lock, and when he looked up, Merlin was standing there, looking at him with a wan expression and dark circles under his eyes. Arthur went to go to him, but Merlin just shook his head, and walked past him, heading upstairs, where a few minutes later Arthur heard the shower turn on.

 

Once Arthur had finished doing his dishes, he went up to their bedroom, where he found Merlin already curled on his side, under the blankets of their bed. Arthur sighed, something in his heart breaking at how small and insecure Merlin looked, and stripped off his clothes, before he climbed into the bed and wrapped his arms around Merlin.

 

“I won’t do it Arthur. I won’t.” Merlin finally broke the silence with a whisper. “And yeah, she was my friend, and I loved her. But I had to watch you marry her Arthur. And I was happy for the both of you, I really was. But…” And here he faltered, and Arthur pulled him even tighter against his chest. “But something in me died that day Arthur. And I won’t go through that again. I won’t.” Arthur felt his heart breaking, and he realised how right Gwaine had been about it all.

 

“Okay Merlin,” Arthur whispered back, laying a gentle kiss to the nape of Merlin’s neck. “I’m sorry. I won’t ask that of you again. I’m sorry.” Arthur knew enough about foregoing a battle to win the war. And nothing, absolutely nothing, was more important to him than Merlin’s heart.

 

“Love you, yeah. Just remember that.” Arthur went on as he showered the back of Merlin’s neck with soft, sweet kisses. “Always, always you.” And then he spent the rest of the night showing Merlin just how true his words were.

 

***

 

So Merlin never did tattoo Gwen in the end. And Arthur never mentioned it again. Gwen and Merlin never became as close as they had once been, although Merlin was always kind and friendly toward her. But there were no meetings for coffee, or quiet conversations huddled together in corners. At first, Gwen seemed confused by this, as if she had been expecting more and sensed that something was missing. But when nothing changed, she simply accepted it as it was, and went on with her life.

 

Arthur was saddened by this, but he had to accept that Gwaine was right. It was not a choice he could force upon Merlin, and if this was what Merlin needed in this life, then who was Arthur to try to make him change.

 

And their lives were so full that it really didn’t matter. That was the largest fight they ever ended up having, and everything seemed easy after that.

 

Arthur and his mates spent most of their free time hanging out at _Excalibur Ink_ , and everyone got used to having them around. Leon in particular, seemed to take a keen interest in watching Ramya work, and Arthur knew it was more than just interest when he came home one day to find Leon asking Merlin to recommend several vegetarian restaurants throughout London. Merlin had just winked at Arthur, and provided Leon with a list.

 

At night, Arthur would sit in the studio with Merlin and Will, and then help with cleanup once their last customers of the day had left to be checked out by Gwaine. They would wave Will and Gwaine off, while Merlin smoked his one cigarette of the day, and then head back upstairs where they would feed the Demonic Duo, and talk about their day, whether or not Leon had had the courage to ask Ramya for a date yet, or the next week-end trip they were planning. Merlin would sometimes call his mum while Arthur watched the news, and other times he would sit in the corner of the couch with Arthur’s head in his lap, scratching away at his sketchpad one handed, while he ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair with the other. Eventually, they would head upstairs together, usually to have sex, but sometimes just to curl around each other and sleep.

 

But every night, before they did, Arthur would stop and stare out of the big bay windows and into the city beyond. Merlin would come up behind him, resting his chin on Arthur’s shoulder while he wrapped his arms loosely around Arthur’s waist, and stare with him at their city. It was a lovely, vibrant place and they had their friends to share it with. But most importantly, they now had each other. And it was that that made it their home.

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**EPILOGUE - The Last Session**

_Four Months Later_

 

Arthur found that he was remarkably calm as he lay on his back on Merlin’s table. And Merlin was smiling at him as wiped down and then shaved Arthur’s skin. Arthur could only smile back.

 

“So you’re finishing it then?” Gwaine asked, popping his head over Merlin’s shoulder to look down at Arthur.

 

“Yep,” Merlin said, as he turned to start mixing his inks. “Everything locked up downstairs?”

 

“Yeah, you two are the last ones here. Everyone else is upstairs.” Gwaine told him. The winter had finally let go, and spring was slowly starting to bloom. The weather was now warm enough that they could start using the upstairs garden area. Arthur had gone ahead and replaced the existing furniture, which had been nothing more than a few ratty plastic chairs and a shabby packing crate used to hold drinks, with nice, new rattan seating, a glass table, and even an umbrella to provide shade from the sun on the warmer days. Merlin had cocked his eyebrow when he had seen it, but Will had simply pushed past him to settle into one of the chairs with a “Yeah, that’ll do.” It was a perfect match for the small garden Merlin kept up there, where he grew a few summer vegetables, like the tomatoes and cucumbers he used for his salads and pastas, and it had quickly become their new gathering spot.  

 

“And Elena’s back,” Gwaine added in a sing song voice.

 

“Really?” Merlin asked with a smile.

 

“Oh yeah. She’s up there snogging Will senseless while your Mum and Freya give pointers.”

 

It had surprised everyone when Will and Elena had started dating. Well, everyone except Merlin. But when Elena had first shown up to one of their footie games one Sunday, Will had taken one look at her, and then proceeded to crash into the very same tree Gwaine had. Elena had laughed and said he was just as clumsy as she was, and Will had actually blushed. A week later, they had gone out on their first date. Three weeks later, they had become exclusive. And now, several months in, they were starting to talk about moving in together.

 

They were a shockingly good fit. Elena was goofy, socially awkward and the clumsiest person Arthur had ever met, but she was also sweet, kind and sincere. She was a free spirit, who became a flight attendant because she wanted to see the world and meet different people. And Will never once tried to clip her wings. He laughed with her, but never at her, and the two of them could spend hours together in a contest to see who could best burp the theme from Jaws. He called her his Chou, the Japanese word for butterfly, and he proved he had meant it when he tattooed a beautiful chain of tiny butterflies rising from the middle of Elena’s back to curl around her upper shoulder. Although she had to cover it for work, Elena loved the tattoo and was now proudly displaying as much of it as she could as the weather grew warmer and warmer. Will pined for her when she was away, and she always threw herself into his arms, laughing, knowing he would catch her, once she got back.

 

Merlin was extremely pleased with it all. He loved Will, and it made him so happy to see him with someone who not only understood and accepted him, but absolutely adored him as well.

 

“How long do you think it’s going to take?” Gwaine asked, looking down at Arthur.

 

“Couple of hours,” Merlin said, with a tilt of his head. “Tell everyone not to wait up if we take too long. I want to get this exactly right, yeah.”

 

“’Kay.” Gwaine said, giving the back of Merlin’s neck a gentle squeeze, before he turned and headed upstairs, whistling as he went.

 

Three weeks ago, Merlin had gone to Will and asked him for a tattoo. A red dragon, he had said, curled beneath the base of the tree on his chest. Will had been shocked and humbled by the request.

 

“But Merls,” he had said. “That’s Kilgarrah’s work. It’s a masterpiece mate.”

 

“And you’re just as good, if not better.” Merlin had told him. “And besides, there’s no one I trust more.” Will had swallowed and nodded, and then spent three hours tattooing a red dragon, curled beneath the tree on Merlin’s chest, its tail wrapped protectively around the trunk. He had used Merlin’s inks, and his bold, sharp style made the dragon look vibrant and alive, as he filled in the strange empty spaces that Arthur had noticed the first night they were together.

 

“Fucker must have known,” Merlin snorted. Arthur had sat next to Merlin during the entire session, holding his hand and watching, transfixed, as Will worked. And he had committed himself to handling all of Merlin’s aftercare.

 

Today, Merlin was going to add the companion piece to the dragon he had finished all of those months ago. The tail, when Merlin had finally finished it, had been a twisting, wide whip of blood red and bright golds. It was a sinuous curve that flowed down Arthur’s side, over his hip, to curl protectively around the birthmark that they now both knew was so much more than that. The tattoo pulsed and sighed with every move Arthur made, and he swore that he could sometimes feel the tip of the tail flicking against his skin. Merlin told him that it was just the dragon being a dragon, and that it needed its hoard when Arthur had commented on it.

 

And that’s what they were going to work on today. In that small space, in the curve of the dragon’s tail, Merlin was going to tattoo a tree, a smaller version of the tree of life that covered Merlin’s own chest, whose roots would wrap around the dragon’s tail and hold it safe. Arthur had been thrilled with the idea when Merlin had suggested it, and today was finally the day they were getting it done.

 

In three days, Merlin and Arthur, Will and Elena, and Gwaine and Percy were going to fly off to America. During their gap year, Merlin and Will had travelled to Japan to study tattooing with a fellow master Kilgarrah had known and recommended, (Merlin was now convinced she had been a dragon too), and  it had planted in them a love of seeing new and different places. Every year, they spent three weeks in the spring going someplace new. One year they had backpacked through India. Another they had spent hitchhiking through Australia. This year they had decided to rent a van and drive cross country in America. They had named the van the Mystery Machine, announced that they were only going to listen to horrible 80s music while they drove, and their only goal was to see as many of the cheesiest tourist traps as they could. Elena had heard this, fallen into Will’s lap, and with big, bright eyes begged if she could join them. Merlin had turned to Arthur then, raised an eyebrow and quietly asked “Wanna come?” And once Gwaine had heard about their plans, there’s was no stopping him. So Arthur had agreed, although he did insist on upgrading to a proper camper, with sleeping compartments and a bathroom. He had tried to veto the 80s music as well, but Elena and Gwaine had declared that everybody needed more Flock of Seagulls in their life, so that was the end of that. They were already talking about where they would like to go next year. China was an option, as was Brazil. But, as they planned their route and looked through guidebooks for things to see, Arthur decided that as long as Merlin was there, he didn’t care where they went.

 

Ramya and Leon would look after everyone’s cats, and Hunith was there to see them off. But before they left, Arthur had wanted to get the last piece of his tattoo finished. Merlin seemed to share his eagerness.

 

He bent down, and laid a soft, gentle kiss to Arthur’s lips.

 

“Ready Arthur?” He asked when he finally pulled away.

 

“Yeah Merlin, I’m ready.” Arthur told him, meaning it with everything he had.

 

“Let’s do this then.” Merlin said, as he leaned over and began to work.

 

And for the rest of their lives, they did.

 

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a few notes here at the end:
> 
> First off, thank you to everyone who's stuck with me to the end of this story. And especially thank you to everyone who has commented or left kudos. I'm new to the Merlin fandom, and it's one of the best ones ever, filled with so much support. All of your comments and kudos really helped while I was in the last stages of writing this. So thank you, thank you, thank you. They were all, each and every one, greatly appreciated.
> 
> Secondly, if anyone is curious, there were three songs that were my inspiration while writing this. 
> 
> Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush - It's just a beautiful song, about wanting to trade places with someone and letting go of pain.  
> All The Pretty Girls by Kaleo - The lyrics to this, especially about life not being fair and waiting, to me just sum up what it must have been like for Merlin while he waits for Arthur.  
> At Last by Etta James - It's the song that just resonates for me when I read any reincarnation fic. 
> 
> And finally, there were lots of comments on Arthur's tattoo. Please note that any and all works inspired by this one would be more than welcome. So, if my story inspired you in any way, please feel free to share. :) 
> 
> Once again, thank you to everyone who read all the way to the end and shared this story with me. I hope, in the end, it lived up to your expectations.


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